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lllllHIIilll 


I 


k_. 

LIBRARY 

OF  THB 

University  of  California. 
Class        ^  5  5- 

I 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


LORD    KILGOBBIN 


BY 


CHAELES  LEYEE. 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS   BY   E.  J.  WHEELER. 


BOSTON: 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY. 

1906. 


Copyright,  1895, 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 


®[ntberstts  ^«ss: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

THE    MEMORY    OF    ONE 

WHOSE   COMPANIONSHIP  MADE  THE   HAPPINESS  OF  A  LONG  LIFE, 

AND  WHOSE  LOSS   HAS   LEFT  ME   HELPLESS, 


1  IBztiimtz  ftis  TOork, 


WBITTEN  IN  BREAKING  HEALTH   AND   BROKEN   SPIRITS. 

THE  TASK,   THAT  ONCE  WAS   MY  JOY  AND  MY  PRIDE,   I   HAVE   LIVED    TO    FIND 

ASSOCIATED  WITH   MY  SORROW  : 

IT    IS    NOT,    THEN,    WITHOUT    A    CAUSE    I    SAY, 

I  HOPE  THIS  EFFORT  MAY  BE  MY  LAST. 

CHARLES  LEVER. 
Trieste,  January  20,  1872. 


193066 


CONTENTS. 


Chaptee  ¥^Q1i 

I.  KiLGOBBiN  Castle 1 

II.  The  Prince  Kostalergi 10 

III.  "  The  Chums  " 21 

IV.  At  "Trinity" 30 

V.  Home  Life  at  the  Castle      .......  40 

VI.  The  "Blue  Goat" 49 

VII.  The  Cousins 59 

VIII.  Showing  how  Friends  may  differ    ....  65 

IX.  A  Drive  through  a  Bog 70 

X.  The  Search  for  Arms '    .     .  78 

XI.  What  the  Papers  said  of  it 92 

XII.  The  Journey  to  the  Country 99 

XIII.  A  Sick-Room 105 

XIV.  At  Dinner 113 

XV.  In  the  Garden  at  Dusk 123 

XVI.  The  Two  "  Kearneys  " 130 

XVII.  Dick's  Revery 138 

XVIII.  Mathew  Kearney's  "  Study  " 145 

XIX.  An  Unwelcome  Visit 151 

XX.  A  Domestic  Discussion.   • 156 

XXI.  A  Small  Dinner-Party 161 

XXII.  A  Confidential  Talk 1"1 

XXTII.  A  Haphazard  Viceroy 181 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

Chaptee  Paob 

XXIV.     Two  Friends  at  Breakfast 186 

XXV.     Atlee's  Embarrassments 194 

XXVI.     Dick  Kearney's  Chambers 199 

XXVII.     A  Crafty  Counsellor 209 

XXVIII.     *'  On  the  Leads  " 214 

XXIX.     On  a  Visit  at  Kilgobbin 219 

XXX.     The  Moate  Station 227 

XXXI.  How  THE  "  Goats  "  revolted    .....  232 

XXXII.     An  Unlooked-for  Pleasure 239 

XXXIII.  Plmnuddm  Castle,  North  Wales      .     .     .  246 

XXXIV.  At  Tea-Time 252 

XXXV,    A  Drive  at  Sunrise 257 

XXXVI.     The  Excursion 266 

XXXVII.     The  Return 281 

XXXVIII.     '^O'Shea's  Barn" 285 

XXXIX.     An  Early  Gallop 294 

XL.    Old  Memories 300 

XLI.    Two  Familiar  Epistles 305 

XL II.  An  Evening  in  the  Drawing-Hoom  .     .     .  310 

XLIII.    Some  Night-Thoughts 318 

XLIV.     The  Head  Constable 326 

XLV.     Some  Irishries 331 

XL VI.     Sage  Advice 336 

XLVII.     Reproof 340 

XLVIII.  How  Men  in  Office  make  Love    ....  347 

XLIX.     A  Cup  of  Tea 356 

L.     Cross  Purposes 362 

LI.     Awakenings 369 

LII.     "A  Chance  Agreement" 376 

LTII.     "  A  Scrape  " 384 

LIV.       "  How  IT  BEFELL  " 390 

LV.     Two  J.  P.'s 398 

LVI.     Before  the  Door 404 


CONTENTS.  ix 

Chapter  '  Page 

LVII.    A  Doctor 410 

LVIII.     In  Turkey 415 

LIX.     A  Letter-Bag 422 

LX.     "A  Defeat" 431 

LXI.     A  "  Change  of  Front  " 438 

LXII.     With  a  Pasha 442 

LXIII.     Atlee  on  his  Travels 44G 

LXIV.     Greek  meets  Greek .  453 

LXV.     "In  Town" 464 

LXVI.     Atlee's  Message 471 

LXVII.     Walpole  Alone    ..." 477 

LXVIII.     Thoughts  on  Marriage 482 

LXIX.     At  Kilgobbin  Castle 487 

LXX.     Atlee's  Return 492 

LXXI.     The  Drive 503 

LXXII.     The  Saunter  in  Town      . 509 

LXXIII.     A  Darkened  Room 512 

LXXIV.     An  Angry  Colloquy 517 

LXXV.  Mathew  Kearney's  Reflections  ....  521 

LXXVI.  Very  Confidential  Conversation    I     .     .  528 

LXXVII.  Two  Young  Ladies  on  Matrimony  .     .     .  534 

LXXVIII.     A  Miserable  Morning 542 

LXXIX.     Pleasant  Congratulations 552 

LXXX.     A  New  Arrival 562 

LXXXI.  An  Unlooked-for  Correspondent     .     .     .  570 

LXXXIL     The  Breakfast-Room 576 

LXXXIII.     The  Garden  by  Moonlight 582 

LXXXIV.    Next  Morning 596 

LXXXV.     The  End 602 


LLUSTRATIONS, 


Charles  Lever Frontispiece 

He   leaned    his   Head   down  and   rested   it   on   her 

Shoulder 90 

A  Small  Dinner  Party 164 

She   held  out  her  Hand  ;   he  bent  over  and  kissed 

it  rapturously 280 

Peter  Gill  stood  before  him 396 


LORD    KILGOBBIN, 


CHAPTER  I. 

KILGOBBIN    CASTLE. 

Some  one  has  said  that  almost  all  that  Ireland  possesses  of 
picturesque  beauty  is  to  be  found  on,  or  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of,  the  seaboard ;  and  if  we  except  some  brief 
patches  of  river  scenery  on  the  "  Nore  "  and  the  "  Black- 
water,"  and  a  part  of  Lough  Erne,  the  assertion  is  not 
devoid  of  truth.  The  dreary  expanse  called  the  Bog  of 
Allen,  which  occupies  a  high  table-land  in  the  centre  of  the 
island,  stretches  away  for  miles  flat,  sad-colored,  and  mono- 
tonous, fissured  in  every  direction  by  channels  of  dark- 
tinted  water,  in  which  the  very  fish  take  the  same  sad  color. 
This  tract  is  almost  without  trace  of  habitation,  save  where, 
at  distant  intervals,  utter  destitution  has  raised  a  mud- 
hovel  undistinguishable  from  the  hillocks  of  turf  around  it. 

Fringing  this  broad  waste,  little  patches  of  cultivation  are 
to  be  seen :  small  potato-gardens,  as  they  are  called,  or  a 
few  roods  of  oats,  green  even  in  the  late  autumn;  but, 
strangely  enough,  with  nothing  to  show  where  the  humble 
tiller  of  the  soil  was  living,  nor,  often,  any  visible  road  to 
these  isolated  spots  of  culture.  Gradually,  however,  —  but 
very  gradually,  —  the  prospect  brightens.  Fields  with  en- 
closures, and  a  cabin  or  two,  are  to  be  met  with ;  a  solitary 
tree,  generally  an  ash,  will  be  seen ;  some  rude  instrument 
of  husbandry,  or  an  ass-cart,  will  show  that  we  are  emerging 
from  the  region  of  complete  destitution  and  approaching  a 
land  of  at  least  struggling  civilization.  At  last,  and  by  a 
transition  that  is  not  always  easy  to  mark,  the  scene  glides 

1 


2  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

into  those  rich  pasture-lands  and  well-tilled  farms  that  form 
the  wealth  of  the  Midland  Counties.  Gentlemen's  seats 
and  waving  plantations  succeed,  and  we  are  in  a  country  of 
comfort  and  abundance. 

On  this  border-land  between  fertility  and  destitution,  and 
on  a  tract  which  had  probably  once  been  part  of  the  Bog 
itself,  there  stood  —  there  stands  still  —  a  short,  square 
tower,  battlemented  at  top,  and  surmounted  with  a  pointed 
roof,  which  seems  to  grow  out  of  a  cluster  of  farm-build- 
ings, so  surrounded  is  its  base  by  roofs  of  thatch  and  slates. 
Incongruous,  vulgar,  and  ugly  in  every  way,  the  old  keep 
appears  to  look  down  on  them  —  time-worn  and  battered  as 
it  is  —  as  might  a  reduced  gentleman  regard  the  unworthy 
associates  with  which  an  altered  fortune  had  linked  him. 
This  is  all  that  remains  of  Kilgobbin  Castle. 

In  the  guide-books  we  read  that  it  was  once  a  place  of 
strength  and  importance,  and  that  Hugh  de  Lacy  —  the  same 
bold  knight  "  who  had  won  all  Ireland  for  the  English  from 
the  Shannon  to  the  sea "  —  had  taken  this  castle  from  a 
native  chieftain  called  Neal  O'Caharney,  whose  family  he 
had  slain,  all  save  one ;  and  then  it  adds :  "Sir  Hugh  came 
one  day,  with  three  Englishmen,  that  he  might  show  them 
the  castle,  when  there  came  to  him  a  youth  of  the  men  of 
Meath  —  a  certain  Gilla  Naher  O'Mahey,  foster-brother  of 
O'Caharney  himself  —  with  his  battle-axe  concealed  beneath 
his  cloak,  and  while  De  Lacy  was  reading  the  petition  he 
gave  him,  he  dealt  him  such  a  blow  that  his  head  flew  off 
many  yards  away,  both  head  and  body  being  afterwards 
buried  in  the  ditch  of  the  castle." 

The  annals  of  Kilronan  further  relate  that  the  O'Caharneys 
became  adherents  of  the  English  —  dropping  their  Irish 
designation,  and  calling  themselves  Kearney;  and  in  this 
way  were  restored  to  a  part  of  the  lands  and  the  Castle  of 
Kilgobbin — "by  favor  of  which  act  of  grace,"  says  the 
Chronicle,  "  they  were  bound  to  raise  a  becoming  monument 
over  the  brave  knight  Hugh  de  Lacy  whom  their  kinsman 
had  so  treacherously  slain  ;  but  they  did  no  more  of  this  than 
one  large  stone  of  granite,  and  no  inscription  thereon :  thus 
showing  that  at  all  times,  and  with  all  men,  the  O'Caharneys 
were  false  knaves  and  untrue  to  their  word." 


KILGOBBIN  CASTLE.  3 

In  later  times,  again,  the  Kearneys  returned  to  the  old 
faith  of   their  fathers  and    followed  the  fortunes  of   King 
James;  one  of  them,  Michael  O'Kearney,  having  acted  as 
aide-de-camp  at  the  "  Boyne,"  and  conducted  the  King  to 
Kilgobbin,  where  he  passed  the  night  after  the  defeat,  and,    U//\>y< 
as  the  traditio'n'"fecords,  held  a  court  the  next  morning,  at     i  'j     f    * 
which  he  thanked  the  owner  of  the  castle  for  his  hospitality,    p~-  '^ 
and  created  him  on  the  spot  a  viscount  by  the  style  and  title    ry|ftv>{ 
of  Lord  Kilgobbin.  U    .  \     L 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  newly  created  noble  saw  .    ^  . 

good  reason  to  keep  his  elevation  to  himself.     They  were      /Vj^MyvA, 
somewhat  critical  times  just  then  for  the  adherents  of  the  ^ 

lost  cause,  and  the  followers  of  King  William  were  keen  at 
scenting  out  any  disloyalty  that  might  be  turned  to  good 
account  by  a  confiscation.  The  Kearneys,  however,  were 
prudent.  They  entertained  a  Dutch  officer.  Van  Straaten, 
on  King  William's  staff,  and  gave  such  valuable  information 
besides  as  to  the  condition  of  the  country  that  no  suspicions 
of  disloyalty  attached  to  them. 

To  these  succeeded  more  peaceful  times,  during  which  the 
Kearneys  were  more  engaged  in  endeavoring  to  reconstruct 
the  fallen  condition  of  their  fortunes  than  in  political  in- 
trigue. Indeed  a  very  small  portion  of  the  original  estate 
now  remained  to  them,  and  of  what  once  had  produced 
above  four  thousand  a  j^ear,  there  was  left  a  property 
barely  worth  eight_hundred. 

The  present  owner,  with  whose  fortunes  we  are  more  im- 
mediately concerned,  was  a  widower.  Mathew  Kearney's 
family  consisted  of  a  son  and  a  daughter ;  the  former  about 
two-and-twenty,  the  latter  four  years  younger,  though  to  all 
appearance  there  did  not  seem  a  year  between  them. 

Mathew  Kearney  himself  was  a  man  of  about  fifty-four  or 
fifty-six ;  hale,  handsome,  and  powerful ;  his  snow-white 
hair  and  bright  complexion,  with  his  full  gray  eyes  and  reg- 
ular teeth,  giving  him  an  air  of  genial  cordiality  at  first 
sight  which  was  fully  confirmed  by  further  acquaintance. 
So  long  as  the  world  went  well  with  him,  Mathew  seemed  to 
enjoy  life  thoroughly,  and  even  its  rubs  he  bore  with  an 
easy  jocularity  that  showed  what  a  stout  heart  he  could  op- 
pose to  fortune.     A  long  minority  had  provided  him  with  a 


4  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

considerable  sum  on  his  coming  of  age,  but  he  spent  it  freely, 
and  when  it  was  exhausted  continued  to  live  on  at  the  same 
rate  as  before,  till  at  last,  as  creditors  grew  pressing,  and 
mortgages  threatened  foreclosure,  he  saw  himself  reduced  to 
something  less  than  one  fifth  of  his  former  outlay;  and 
though  he  seemed  to  address  himself  to  the  task  with  a  bold 
spirit  and  a  resolute  mind,  the  old  habits  were  too  deeply 
rooted  to  be  eradicated,  and  the  pleasant  companionship  of 
his  equals,  his  life  at  the  club  in  Dublin,  his  joyous  convivi- 
ality, no  longer  possible,  he  suffered  himself  to  descend  to 
an  inferior  rank,  and  sought  his  associates  amongst  humbler 
men,  whose  flattering  reception  of  him  soon  reconciled  him 
to  his  fallen  condition.  His  companions  were  now  the  small 
farmers  of  the  neighborhood  and  the  shopkeepers  in  the  ad- 
joining town  of  Moate,  to  whose  habits  and  modes  of 
thought  and  expression  he  gradually  conformed,  till  it  be- 
came positively  irksome  to  himself  to  keep  the  company  of 
Vy^     •     his  equals.     Whether,  however,  it  was  that  age  had  breached 

^^  ^^  the  stronghold  of  his  good  spirits,  or  that  conscience  rebuked 
r^*^  him  for  having  derogated  from  his  station,  certain  it  is  that 

^^  all  his  buoyancy  failed  him  when  away  from  society,  and 
that  in  the  quietness  of  his  home  he  was  depressed  and  dis- 
pirited to  a  degree ;  and  to  that  genial  temper,  which  once 
he  could  count  on  against  every  reverse  that  befell  him, 
there  now  succeeded  an  irritable,  peevish  spirit,  that  led 
him  to  attribute  every  annoyance  he  met  with  to  some  fault 
or  shortcoming  of  others. 

By  his  neighbors  in  the  town  and  by  his  tenantry  he  was 
always  addressed  as  "My  Lord,"  and  treated  with  all  the 
deference  that  pertained  to  such  difference  of  station.  By 
the  gentry,  however,  when  at  rare  occasions  he  met  them, 
he  was  known  as  Mr.  Kearney ;  and  in  the  village  post- 
office  the  letters  with  the  name  Mathew  Kearney,  Esq.,  were 
perpetual  reminders  of  what  rank  was  accorded  him  by  that 
wider  section  of  the  world  that  lived  beyond  the  shadow  of 
Kilgobbin  Castle. 

Perhaps  the  impossible  task  of  serving  two  masters  is 
never  more  palpably  displayed  than  when  the  attempt 
attaches  to  a  divided  identity,  —  when  a  man  tries  to  be 
himself  in  two  distinct  parts  in  life,  without  the  slightest 


KILGOBBIN   CASTLE.  5 

misgiving  of  hypocrisy  while  doing  so.  Mathew  Kearney 
not  only  did  not  assume  any  pretension  to  nobility  amongst 
his  equals,  but  he  would  have  felt  that  any  reference  to  his 
title  from  one  of  them  would  have  been  an  impertinence, 
and  an  impertinence  to  be  resented ;  while,  at  the  same 
time,  had  a  shopkeeper  of  Moate,  or  one  of  the  tenants, 
addressed  him  as  other  than  "  My  Lord"  he  would  not  have 
deigned  him  a  notice. 

Strangely  enough,  this  divided  allegiance  did  not  merely 
prevail  with  the  outer  world,  it  actually  penetrated  within 
his  walls.  By  his  son,  Richard  Kearney,  he  was  always 
called  "My  Lord;"  while  Kate  as  persistently  addressed 
and  spoke  of  him  as  Papa.  Nor  was  this  difference  without 
signification  as  to  their  separate  natures  and  tempers. 

Had  Mathew  Kearney  contrived  to  divide  the  two  parts  of 
his  nature,  and  bequeathed  all  his  pride,  his  vanity,  and  his 
pretensions  to  his  son,  while  he  gave  his  light-heartedness, 
his  buoyancy,  and  kindliness  to  his  daughter,  the  partition 
could  not  have  been  more  perfect.  Richard  Kearney  was  rj^ 
full  of  an  insolent  pride  of  birth.  Contrasting  the  position  ( 
of  his  father  with  that  held  by  his  grandfather,  he  resented^ 
the  downfall  as  the  act  of  a  dominant  faction,  eager  to  out-  — ^  ^^ 
rage  the  old  race  and  the  old  religion  of  Ireland.  Kate  took 
a  very  different  view  of  their  condition.  She  clung,  indeed, 
to  the  notion  of  their  good  blood ;  but  as  a  thing  that  might 
assuage  many  of  the  pangs  of  adverse  fortune,  not  increasej 
nor  embitter  them;  and,  "if  we  are  ever  to  emerge,"! 
thought  she,  "  from  this  poor  state,  we  shall  meet  our  class; 
without  any  of  the  shame  of  a  mushroom  origin.  It  will  be 
a  restoration,  and  not  a  new  elevation."  She  was  a  fine,! 
handsome,  fearless  girl,  whom  many  said  ought  to  have 
been  a  boy ;  but  this  was  rather  intended  as  a  covert  slight 
on  the  narrower  nature  and  peevish  temperament  of  her 
brother,  —  another  way,  indeed,  of  saying  that  they  should 
have  exchanged  conditions, 

The  listless  indolence  of  her  father's  life,  and  the  almost 
complete  absence  from  home  of  her  brother,  who  was  pursu- 
ing his  studies  at  the  Dublin  University,  had  given  over  toj 
her  charge  not  only  the  household,  but  no  small  share  of  the! 
management  of    the  estate,  —  all,  in  fact,  that  an  old  land 


6  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

steward,  a  certain  Peter  Gill,  would  permit  her  to  exercise ; 
for  Peter  was  a  very  absolute  and  despotic  Grand  Vizier,  and 
if  it  had  not  been  that  he  could  neither  read  nor  write,  it 
would  have  been  utterly  impossible  to  have  wrested  from 
him  a  particle  of  power  over  the  property.  This  happy 
defect  in  his  education  —  happy  so  far  as  Kate's  rule  was 
concerned  —  gave  her  the  one  claim  she  could  prefer  to 
any  superiority  over  him,  and  his  obstinacy  could  never  be 
effectually  overcome,  except  by  confronting  him  with  a 
written  document  or  a  column  of  figures.  Before  these, 
indeed,  he  would  stand  crestfallen  and  abashed.  Some 
strange  terror  seemed  to  possess  him  as  to  the  peril  of 
opposing  himself  to  such  inscrutable  testimony,  —  a  fear, 
be  it  said,  he  never  felt  in  contesting  an  oral  witness. 

Peter  had  one  resource,  however,  and  I  am  not  sure  that 
a  similar  stronghold  has  not  secured  the  power  of  greater 
men  and  in  higher  functions,  Peter's  sway  was  of  so  varied 
and  complicated  a  kind ;  the  duties  he  discharged  were  so 
various,  manifold,  and  conflicting;  the  measures  he  took 
with  the  people,  whose  destinies  were  committed  to  him, 
were,  so  thoroughly  devised,  by  reference  to  the  peculiar 
condition  of  each  man,  what  he  could  do  or  bear  or 
submit  to,  and  not  by  any  sense  of  justice, — that  a  sort 
of  government  grew  up  over  the  property  full  of  hitches, 
contingencies,  and  compensations,  and  of  which  none  but 
he  who  had  invented  the  machinery  could  possibly  pretend 
to  the  direction.     The  estate  being,  to  use  his  own  words, 

so  like  the  old  coach-harness,  so  full  of  knots,  splices,  and 
entanglements,  there  was  not  another  man  in  Ireland  could 
make  it  work ;  and  if  another  were  to  try  it,  it  would  all 
come  to  pieces  in  his  hands." 

->-  Kate  was  shrewd  enough  to  see  this  ;  and  in  the  same  way 
that  she  ha^  admirinoly  watche'cl  Peter  as  he  knotted  a  trace 
here  and  supplemented  a  strap  there,  strengthening  a  weak 
point,  and  providing  for  casualties  even  the  least  likely,  she 
saw  him  dealing  with  the  tenantry  on  the  property ;  and  in 
the  same  spirit  that  he  made  allowance  for  sickness  here  and 
misfortune  there,  he  would  be  as  prompt  to  screw  up  a  lagging 
tenant  to  the  last  penny,  and  secure  the  landlord  in  the  share 
of  any  season  of  prosperity. 


^     ijUXj  KILGOBBIN  CASTLE.  7 

Had  the  Government  Commissioner,  sent  to  report  on  the 
state  of  land  tenure  in  Ireland,  confined  himself  to  a  Visit  to 
the  estate  of  Lord  Kilgobbm,  —  for  so  we  like  to  call  him,  — 
it  is  just  possible  that  the  Cabinet  would  have  found  the  task 
of  legislation  even  more  difficult  than  they  have  already 
admitted  it  to  be. 

First  of  all,  not  a  tenant  on  the  estate  had  any  certain 
knowledge  of  how  much  land  he  held.  There  had  been  no 
survey  of  the  property  for  years.  ''  It  will  be  made  up  to 
you,"  was  Gill's  phrase  about  everything.  "What  matters 
if  you  have  an  acre  more  or  an  acre  less  ?  "  Neither  had 
any  one  a  lease,  or,  indeed,  a  writing  of  any  kind.  Gill 
settled  that  on  the  25th  March  and  25th  September  a  cer- 
tain sum  was  to  be  forthcoming,  and  that  was  all.  When 
the  Lord  wanted  them  they  were  always  to  give  him  a 
hand,  which  often  meant  with  their  carts  and  horses,  es- 
pecially in  harvest  time.  Not  that  they  were  a  hard- 
worked  or  hard-working  population :  they  took  life  very 
easy,  seeing  that  by  no  possible  exertion  could  they  mate- 
rially better  themselves ;  and  even  when  they  hunted  a 
neighbor's  cow  out  of  their  wheat,  they  would  execute  the 
eviction  with  a  lazy  indolence  and  sluggishness  that  took 
away  from  the  act  all  semblance  of  ungenerousness. 

They  were  very  poor,  their  hovels  were  wretched,  their 
clothes  ragged,  and  their  food  scanty;  but,  with  all  that, 
they  were  not  discontented,  and  very  far  from  unhappy. 
There  was  no  prosperity  at  hand  to  contrast  with  their 
poverty.  The  world  was,  on  the  whole,  pretty  much  as 
they  always  remembered  it.  They  would  have  liked  to  be 
"  better  off"  if  they  knew  how,  but  they  did  not  know  if 
there  was  a  "  better  off,"  —  much  less  how  to  come  at  it; 
and  if  there  were,  Peter  Gill  certainly  did  not  tell  them 
of  it. 

If  a  stray  visitor  to  fair  or  market  brought  back  the  news 
that  there  was  an  agitation  abroad  for  a  new  settlement  of 
the  land,  that  popular  orators  were  proclaiming  the  poor 
man's  rights,  and  denouncing  the  cruelties  of  the  landlord, 
if  they  heard  that  men  were  talking  of  repealing  the  laws 
which  secured  property  to  the  owner  and  only  admitted  him 
to  a  sort  of  partnership  with  the  tiller  of  the  soil,  old  Gill 


8  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

speedily  assured  them  that  these  were  changes  only  to  be 
adopted  in  Ulster,  where  the  tenants  were  rack-rented  and 
treated  like  slaves.  "Which  of  you  here,"  would  he  say, 
"can  come  forward  and  say  he  was  ever  evicted?  "  Now, 
as  the  term  was  one  of  which  none  had  the  very  vaguest  con- 
ception, —  it  might,  for  aught  they  knew,  have  been  an 
operation  in  surgery,  —  the  appeal  was  an  overwhelming 
success.  "  Sorra  doubt  of  it,  but  ould  Peter's  right,  and 
there 's  worse  places  to  live  in,  and  worse  landlords  to  live 
under,  than  the  Lord."  Not  but  it  taxed  Gill's  skill  and 
cleverness  to  maintain  this  quarantine  against  the  outer 
world;  and  he  often  felt  like  Prince  Metternich  in  a  like 
strait,  —  that  it  would  only  be  a  question  of  time,  and  in 
the  long  run  the  newspaper  fellows  must  win. 

From  what  has  been  said,  therefore,  it  may  be  imagined 
that  Kilgobbin  was  not  a  model  estate,  nor  Peter  Gill 
exactly  the  sort  of  witness  from  which  a  select  committee 
would  have  extracted  any  valuable  suggestions  for  the  con- 
struction of  a  land  code. 

Anything  short  of  Kate  Kearney's  fine  temper  and  genial 
disposition  would  have  broken  down  by  daily  dealing  with 
this  cross-grained,  wrong-headed,  and  obstinate  old  fellow, 
whose  ideas  of  management  all  centred  in  craft  and  sub- 
tlety, —  outwitting  this  man,  forestalling  that,  —  doing  every- 
thing by  halves,  so  that  no  boon  came  unassociated  with 
some  contingency  or  other  by  which  he  secured  to  himself 
unlimited  power  and  uncontrolled  tyranny. 

As  Gill  was  in  perfect  possession  of  her  father's  confi- 
dence, to  oppose  him  in  anything  was  a  task  of  no  mean 
difficulty ;  and  the  mere  thought  that  the  old  fellow  should 
feel  offended  and  throw  up  his  charge  —  a  threat  he  had 
more  than  once  half  hinted  —  was  a  terror  Kilgobbin  could 
not  have  faced.  Nor  was  this  her  only  care.  There  was 
Dick  continually  dunning  her  for  remittances,  and  impor- 
1  tuning  her  for  means  to  supply  his  extravagances.  "I 
suspected  how  it  would  be,"  wrote  he  once,  "with  a  lady 
paymaster.  And  when  my  father  told  me  I  was  to  look  to 
you  for  my  allowance,  I  accepted  the  information  as  a  heavy 
percentage  taken  off  my  beggarly  income.  What  could 
you  —  what  could  any  young  girl  —  know  of   the   require- 


KILGOBBIN  CASTLE.  9 

ments  of  a  man  going  out  into  the  best  society  of  a  capital? 
To  derive  any  benefit  from  associating  with  these  people  I 
must  at  least  seem  to  live  like  them.  I  am  received  as  the 
son  of  a  man  of  condition  and  property,  and  you  want  to 
bound  my  habits  by  those  of  my  chum,  Joe  Atlee,  whose 
father  is  starving  somewhere  on  the  pay  of  a  Presbyterian 
minister.  Even  Joe  himself  laughs  at  the  notion  of  gaug- 
ing my  expenses  by  his. 

'^  If  this  is  to  go  on  —  I  mean  if  you  intend  to  persist 
in  this  plan  —  be  frank  enough  to  say  so  at  once,  and  I 
will  either  take  pupils,  or  seek  a  clerkship,  or  go  off  to 
Australia;    and  1  care  precious  little  which  of  the  three. 

"I  know  what  a  proud  thing  it  is  for  whoever  manages 
the  revenue  to  come  forward  and  show  a  surplus.  Chan- 
cellors of  the  Exchequer  make  great  reputations  in  that 
fashion ;  but  there  are  certain  economies  that  lie  close  to 
revolutions ;  now  don't  risk  this,  nor  don't  be  above  tak- 
ing a  hint  from  one  some  years  older  than  you,  though  he 
neither  rules  his  father's  house  nor  metes  out  his  pocket- 
money." 

Such,  and  such  like,  were  the  epistles  she  received  from 
time  to  time,  and  though  frequency  blunted  something  of 
their  sting,  and  their  injustice  gave  her  a  support  against 
their  sarcasm,  she  read  and  thought  over  them  in  a  spirit 
of  bitter  mortification.  Of  course  she  showed  none  of  these 
letters  to  her  father.  He  indeed  only  asked  if  Dick  were 
well,  or  if  he  were  soon  going  up  for  that  scholarship  or 
fellowship,  —  he  did  not  know  which,  nor  was  he  to  blame, 
—  ' '  which,  after  all,  it  was  hard  on  a  Kearney  to  stoop  to 
accept,  only  that  times  were  changed  with  us !  and  we 
were  n't  what  we  used  to  be,"  —  a  reflection  so  overwhelm- 
ing that  he  generally  felt  unable  to  dwell  on  it. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    PRINCE    KOSTALERGI. 

Mathew  Kearney  had  once  a  sister  whom  he  dearly  loved, 
and  whose  sad  fate  lay  very  heavily  on  his  hearty  for  he 
was  not  without  self-accusings  on  the  score  of  it.  Matilda 
Kearney  had  been  a  belle  of  the  Irish  court  and  a  toast 
at  the  club  when  Mathew  was  a  young  fellow  in  town; 
and  he  had  been  very  proud  of  her  beauty,  and  tasted  a 
full  share  of  those  attentions  which  often  fall  to  the  lot  of 
brothers  of  handsome  girls. 

Then  Matty  was  an  heiress,  that  is,  she  had  twelve 
thousand  pounds  in  her  own  right ;  and  Ireland  was  not  such 
a  California  as  to  make  a  very  pretty  girl  with  twelve 
thousand  pounds  an  ever^^-day  chance.  She  had  numerous 
ofifers  of  marriage,  and  with  the  usual  luck  in  such  cases, 
there  were  commonplace  unattractive  men  with  good  means, 
and  there  were  clever  and  agreeable  fellows  without  a  six- 
pence, all  alike  ineligible.  Matty  had  that  infusion  of  roi 
mance  in  her  nature  that  few,  if  any,  Irish  girls  are  free 
from,  and  which  made  her  desire  that  the  man  of  her  choice 
should  be  something  out  of  the  common.  She  would  have 
liked  a  soldier  who  had  won  distinction  in  the  field.  The 
idea  of  military  fame  was  very  dear  to  her  Irish  heart,  and 
she  fancied  with  what  pride  she  would  hang  upon  the  arm 
of  one  whose  gay  trappings  and  gold  embroidery  emblem- 
atized the  career  he  followed.  If  not  a  soldier,  she  would 
have  liked  a  great  orator,  some  leader  in  debate  that  men 
would  rush  down  to  hear,  and  whose  glowing  words  would 
be  gathered  up  and  repeated  as  though  inspirations :  after 
that  a  poet,  and  perhaps  —  not  a  painter  —  a  sculptor,  she 
thought,  might  do. 

With  such  aspirations  as  these,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
she  rejected  the  offers  of  those  comfortable  fellows  in  Meath, 


THE  PRINCE   KOSTALERGI.  11 

or  Louth,  whose  military  glories  were  militia  drills,  and 
whose  eloquence  was  confined  to  the  bench  of  magistrates. 

At  three-and-twenty  she  was  in  the  full  blaze  of  her 
beauty ;  at  three-and-thirty  she  was  still  unmarried ;  her 
looks  on  the  wane,  but  her  romance  stronger  than  ever, 
not  untinged  perhaps  with  a  little  bitterness  towards  that 
sex  which  had  not  afforded  one  man  of  merit  enough  to  woo 
and  win  her.  Partly  out  of  pique  with  a  land  so  barren  of 
all  that  could  minister  to  imagination,  partly  in  anger  with 
her  brother  who  had  been  urging  her  to  a  match  she  disliked, 
she  went  abroad  to  travel,  wandered  about  for  a  year  or 
two,  and  at  last  found  herself  one  winter  at  Naples. 

There  was  at  that  time,  as  secretary  to  the  Greek  legation, 
a  young  fellow  whom  repute  called  the  handsomest  man  in 
Europe ;  he  was  a  certain  Spiridion  Kostalergi,  whose  title 
was  Prince  of  Delos,  though  whether  there  was  such  a 
principality,  or  that  he  was  its  representative,  society  was 
not  fully  agreed  upon.  At  all  events,  Miss  Kearney  met 
him  at  a  court  ball,  when  he  wore  his  national  costume, 
looking,  it  must  be  owned,  so  splendidly  handsome  that  all 
thought  of  his  princely  rank  was  forgotten  in  presence  of  a 
face  and  figure  that  recalled  the  highest  triumphs  of  ancient 
art.  It  was  Antinous  come  to  life  in  an  embroidered  cap 
and  a  gold  i^vbrked  jacket,  and  it  was  Antinous  with  a  voice 
like  Mario,  and  who  waltzed  to  perfection.  This  splendid 
creatn:re7  a  modern  Alcibiades  in  gifts  of  mind  and  graces, 
soon  heard,  amongst  his  other  triumphs,  how  a  rich  and 
handsome  Irish  girl  had  fallen  in  love  with  him  at  first  sight. 
He  had  himself  been  struck  by  her  good  looks  and  her 
stylish  air,  and  learning  that  there  could  be  no  doubt  about 
her  fortune,  he  lost  no  time  in  making  his  advances.  Before 
the  end  of  the  first  week  of  their  acquaintance  he  proposed. 
She  referred  him  to  her  brother  before  she  could  consent ; 
and  though,  when  Kostalergi  inquired  amongst  her  English 
friends,  none  had  ever  heard  of  a  Lord  Kilgobbin,  the  fact 
of  his  being  Irish  explained  their  ignorance,  not  to  say  that 
Kearney's  reply,  being  a  positive  refusal  of  consent,  so  fully 
satisfied  the  Greek  that  it  was  "a  good  thing,"  he  pressed 
his  suit  with  a  most  passionate  ardor:  threatened  to  kill 
himself   if   she  persisted    in  rejecting  him,  and  so  worked 


12  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

upon  her  heart  by  his  devotion,  or  on  her  pride  by  the 
thought  of  his  position,  that  she  yielded,  and  within  three 
weeks  from  the  day  they  first  met,  she  became  the  Princess 
of  Delos. 

When  a  Greek,  holding  any  public  employ,  marries  money, 
his  Government  is  usually  prudent  enough  to  promote  him. 
It  is  a  recognition  of  the  merit  that  others  have  discovered, 
and  a  wise  administration  marches  with  the  inventions  of 
the  age  it  lives  in.  Kostalergi's  chief  was  consequently 
recalled,  suffered  to  fall  back  upon  his  previous  obscurity,  — 
he  had  been  a  commission-agent  for  a  house  in  the  Greek 
trade,  —  and  the  Prince  of  Delos  gazetted  as  Minister  Pleni- 
potentiary of  Greece,  with  the  first  class  of  St.  Salvador, 
in  recognition  of  his  services  to  the  state;  no  one  being 
indiscreet  enough  to  add  that  the  aforesaid  services  were 
comprised  in  marrying  an  Irishwoman  with  a  dowry  of  —  to 
quote  the  '^  Athenian  Hemera  "  —  "  three  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  drachmas." 

For  a  while  —  it  was  a  very  brief  while  —  the  romantic 
mind  of  the  Irish  girl  was  raised  to  a  sort  of  transport  of 
enjoyment.  Here  was  everything  —  more  than  everything 
—  her  most  glowing  imagination  had  ever  conceived.  Love, 
ambition,  station,  all  gratified,  though  to  be  sure,  she  had 
quarrelled  with  her  brother,  who  had  returned  her  last 
letters  unopened.  Mathew,  she  thought,  was  too  good- 
hearted  to  bear  a  long  grudge  ;  he  would  see  her  happiness, 
he  would  hear  what  a  devoted  and  good  husband  her  dear 
Spiridion  had  proved  himself,  and  he  would  forgive  her  at 
last. 

Though,  as  was  well  known,  the  Greek  Envoy  received 
but  a  very  moderate  salary  from  his  Government,  and  even 
that  not  paid  with  a  strict  punctuality,  the  legation  was 
maintained  with  a  splendor  that  rivalled,  if  not  surpassed, 
those  of  France,  England,  or  Russia.  The  Prince  of  Delos 
led  the  fashion  in  equipage,  as  did  the  Princess  in  toilette ; 
their  dinners,  their  balls,  their  fetes,  attracted  the  curiosity 
of  even  the  highest  to  witness  them ;  and  to  such  a  degree 
of  notoriety  had  the  Greek  hospitality  attained,  that  Naples 
at  last  admitted  that  without  the  Palazzo  Kostalergi  there 
would  be  nothing  to  attract  strangers  to  the  capital. 


THE  PRINCE   KOSTALERGI.  13 

Play,  so  invariably  excluded  from  the  habits  of  an 
embassy,  was  carried  on  at  this  legation  to  such  an  excess 
that  the  clubs  were  completely  deserted,  and  all  the  young 
men  of  gambling  tastes  flocked  here  each  night,  sure  to  find 
lansquenet  or  faro,  and  for  stakes  which  no  public  table 
could  possibly  supply.  It  was  not  alone  that  this  life  of  a 
gambler  estranged  Kostalergi  from  his  wife,  but  that  the 
scandal  of  his  infidelities  had  reached  her  also,  just  at  the 
time  when  some  vague  glimmering  suspicions  of  his  utter 
worthlessness  were  breaking  on  her  mind.  The  birth  of  a 
little  girl  did  not  seem  in  the  slightest  degree  to  renew  the 
ties  between  them  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  embarrassment  of  a 
baby  and  the  cost  it  must  entail  were  the  only  considerations 
he  would  entertain,  and  it  was  a  constant  question  of  his  — 
uttered,  too,  with  a  tone  of  sarcasm  that  cut  her  to  the  heart : 
' '  Would  not  her  brother  —  the  Lord  Irlandais  —  like  to 
have  that  baby?  Would  she  not  write  and  ask  him?  "  Un- 
pleasant stories  had  long  been  rife  about  the  play  at  the 
Greek  legation,  when  a  young  Russian  secretary,  of  high 
family  and  influence,  lost  an  immense  sum  under  circum- 
stances which  determined  him  to  refuse  payment.  Kosta- 
lergi, who  had  been  the  chief  winner,  refused  everything  like 
inquiry  or  examination ;  in  fact,  he  made  investigation  im- 
possible, for  the  cards,  which  the  Russian  had  declared  to  be 
marked,  the  Greek  gathered  up  slowly  from  the  table  and 
threw  into  the  fire,  pressing  his  foot  upon  them  in  the  flames, 
and  then  calmly  returning  to  where  the  other  stood,  he  struck 
him  across  the  face  with  his  open  hand,  saying,  as  he  did  it : 
"Here  is  another  debt  to  repudiate,  and  before  the  same 
witnesses  also !  " 

The  outrage  did  not  admit  of  delay.  The  arrangements 
were  made  in  an  instant,  and  within  half  an  hour  —  merely 
time  enough  to  send  for  a  surgeon  —  they  met  at  the  end  of 
the  garden  of  the  legation.  The  Russian  fired  first,  and, 
though  a  consummate  pistol-shot,  agitation  at  the  insult  so 
unnerved  him  that  he  missed ;  his  ball  cut  the  knot  of  Kos- 
talergl's  cravat.  The  Greek  took  a  calm  and  deliberate  aim, 
and  sent  his  bullet  through  the  other's  forehead.  He  fell 
without  a  word,  stone  dead. 

Though  the  duel  had  been  a  fair  one,  and  the  proces  verbal 


14  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

drawn  up  and  agreed  on  both  sides  showed  that  all  had  been 
done  loyally,  the  friends  of  the  young  Russian  had  influence 
to  make  the  Greek  Government  not  only  recall  the  Envoy, 
but  abolish  the  mission  itself. 

For  some  years  the  Kostalergis  lived  in  retirement  at 
Palermo,  not  knowing  nor  known  to  any  one.  Their  means 
were  now  so  reduced  that  they  had  barely  sufficient  for  daily 
life,  and  though  the  Greek  Prince  —  as  he  was  called  — 
constantly  appeared  on  the  public  promenade  well  dressed, 
and  in  all  the  pride  of  his  handsome  figure,  it  was  currently 
said  that  his  wife  was  literally  dying  of  want. 

It  was  only  after  long  and  agonizing  suffering  that  she 
ventured  to  write  to  her  brother,  and  appeal  to  him  for 
advice  and  assistance.  But  at  last  she  did  so,  and  a  corre- 
spondence grew  up  which,  in  a  measure,  restored  the  affection 
between  them.  When  Kostalergi  discovered  the  source  from 
which  his  wretched  wife  now  drew  her  consolation  and  her 
courage,  he  forbade  her  to  write  more,  and  himself  addressed 
a  letter  to  Kearney  so  insulting  and  offensive  —  charging 
him  even  with  causing  the  discord  of  his  home,  and  showing 
the  letter  to  his  wife  before  sending  it  s—  that  the  poor 
woman,  long  failing  in  health  and  broken-down,  sank  soon 
after,  and  died  so  destitute  that  the  very  funeral  was  paid 
for  by  a  subscription  amongst  her  countrymen.  Kostalergi 
had  left  her  some  days  before  her  death,  carrying  the  girl 
along  with  him,  nor  was  his  whereabouts  learned  for  a  con- 
siderable time. 

-  When  next  he  emerged  into  the  world  it  was  at  Rome, 
where  he  gave  lessons  in  music  and  modern  languages,  in 
many  of  which  he  was  a  proficient.  His  splendid  appear- 
ance, his  captivating  address,  his  thorough  familiarity  with 
the  modes  of  society,  gave  him  the  entree  to  many  houses 
where  his  talents  amply  requited  the  hospitality  he  received. 
He  possessed,  amongst  his  other  gifts,  an  immense  amount 
of  plausibility,  and  people  found  it,  besides,  very  difficult  to 
believe  ill  of  that  well-bred,  somewhat  retiring  man,  who, 
in  circumstances  of  the  very  narrowest  fortunes,  not  only 
looked  and  dressed  like  a  gentleman,  but  actually  brought 
up  a  daughter  with  a  degree  of  care  and  an  amount  of  regard 
to  her  education  that  made  him  appear  a  model  parent. 


THE  PRINCE   KOSTALERGI.  15 

Nina  Kostalergi  was  then  about  seventeen,  though  she 
looked  at  least  three  years  older.  She  was  a  tall,  slight, 
pale  girl,  with  perfectly  regular  features,  —  so  classic  in  the 
mould,  and  so  devoid  of  any  expression,  that  she  recalled  the 
face  one  sees  on  a  cameo.  Her  hair  was  of  wondrous  beauty, 
—  that  rich,  gold  color  which  has  reflets  through  it,  as  the 
light  falls  full  or  faint,  and  of  an  abundance  that  taxed  her 
ingenuity  to  dress  it.  They  gave  her  the  sobriquet  of  the  j 
Titian  Girl  at  Rome  whenever  she  appeared  abroad.  ■ 

In  the  only  letter  Kearney  had  received  from  his  brother- 
in-law  after  his  sister's  death  was  an  insolent  demand  for  a 
sum  of  money  which  he  alleged  that  Kearney  was  unjustly 
withholding,  and  which  he  now  threatened  to  enforce  by 
law.  "I  am  well  aware,"  wrote  he,  "what  measure  of 
honor  or  honesty  I  am  to  expect  from  a  man  whose  very 
name  and  designation  are  a  deceit.  But  probably  prudence 
will  suggest  how  much  better  it  would  be  on  this  occasion  to 
simulate  rectitude  than  risk  the  shame  of  an  open  exposure." 

To  this  gross  insult  Kearney  never  deigned  any  reply; 
and  now  more  than  two  years  passed  without  any  tidings  of 
his  disreputable  relation,  when  there  came  one  morning  a 
letter  with  the  Roman  post-mark,  and  addressed,  "  X  Mon- 
sieur le  Vicomte  de  Kilgobbin,  a  son  Chateau  de  Kilgobbin, 
en  Irlande."  To  the  honor  of  the  officials  in  the  Irish  J  / 
post-office,  it  was  forwarded  to  Kilgobbin  with  the  words, 
"  Try  Mathew  Kearney,  Esq.,"  in  the  corner. 

A  glance  at  the  writing  showed  it  was  not  in  Kostalergi's 
hand,  and,  after  a  moment  or  two  of  hesitation,  Kearney 
opened  it.  He  turned  at  once  for  the  writer's  name,  and 
read  the  words,  "Nina  Kostalergi," — his  sister's  child! 
"  Poor  Matty,"  was  all  he  could  say  for  some  minutes.  He 
remembered  the  letter  in  which  she  told  him  of  her  little 
girl's  birth,  and  implored  his  forgiveness  for  herself  and  his 
love  for  her  baby.  "  I  want  both,  my  dear  brother,"  wrote 
she;  "for  though  the  bonds  we  make  for  ourselves  by  our 
passions  —  "  And  the  rest  of  the  sentence  was  erased  — 
she  evidently  thinking  she  had  delineated  all  that  could  give 
a  clew  to  a  despondent  reflection. 

The  present  letter  was  written  in  English,  but  in  that 
quaint,  peculiar  hand  Italians  often  write  in.     It  begun  by 


^^ 


16  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

asking  forgiveness  for  daring  to  write  to  him,  and  recalling 
the  details  of  the  relationship  between  them,  as  though  he 
could  not  have  remembered  it.  "I  am,  then,  in  my  right," 
wrote  she,  "  when  I  address  you  as  my  dear,  dear  uncle,  of 
whom  I  have  heard  so  much,  and  whose  name  was  in  my 
prayers  ere  I  knew  why  I  knelt  to  pray." 

Then  followed  a  piteous  appeal,  —  it  was  actually  a  cry  for 
protection.  Her  father,  she  said,  had  determined  to  devote 
her  to  the  stage,  and  already  had  taken  steps  to  sell  her  — 
she  said  she  used  the  word  advisedly  —  for  so  many  years  to 
the  impresario  of  the  Fenice  at  Venice,  her  voice  and  musical 
I  skill  being  such  as  to  give  hope  of  her  becoming  a  prima 
donna.  She  had,  she  said,  frequently  sung  at  private  parties 
at  Rome,  but  only  knew  within  the  last  few  days  that  she 
had  been,  not  a  guest,  but  a  paid  performer.  Overwhelmed 
with  the  shame  and  indignity  of  this  false  position,  she 
implored  her  mother's  brother  to  compassionate  her.  "  If  I 
could  not  become  a  governess,  I  could  be  your  servant, 
dearest  uncle,"  she  wrote.  "  I  only  ask  a  roof  to  shelter 
me,  and  a  refuge.  May  I  go  to  you?  I  would  beg  my  way 
on  foot  if  I  only  knew  that  at  the  last  your  heart  and  your 
door  would  be  open  to  me,  and  as  I  fell  at  your  feet,  knew 
that  I  was  saved." 

Until  a  few  days  ago,  she  said,  she  had  by  her  some  little 
trinkets  her  mother  had  left  her,  and  on  which  she  counted 
as  a  means  of  escape ;  but  her  father  had  discovered  them, 
and  taken  them  from  her. 

"  If  you  answer  this  —  and  oh  !  let  me  not  doubt  you  will  —  write 
to  me  to  the  care  of  the  Signori  Cayani  and  Battistella,  bankers, 
Rome.  Do  not  delay,  but  remember  that  I  am  friendless,  and  but 
for  this  chance  hopeless. 

"Your  niece,         Nina  Kostalergi." 

While  Kearney  gave  this  letter  to  his  daughter  to  read,  he 
■walked  up  and  down  the  room  with  his  head  bent  and  his 
j  hands  deep  in  his  pockets. 

"  I  think  I  know  the  answer  you'll  send  to  this,  papa," 
said  the  girl,  looking  up  at  him  with  a  glow  of  pride  and 
affection  in  her  face.  "  I  do  not  need  that  you  should 
say  it." 


THE   PRINCE   KOSTALERGI.  17 

*'It  will  take  fifty  — no,  not  fifty,  but  five-and-thirty 
pounds  to  bring  her  over  here,  and  how  is  she  to  come  all 
alone  ?  " 

Kate  made  no  reply ;  she  knew  the  danger  sometimes  of 
interrupting  his  own  solution  of  a  diflSculty. 

''She's  a  big  girl,  I  suppose,  by  this, — fourteen  or 
fifteen?" 

"Over  nineteen,  papa." 

"So  she  is,  I  was  forgetting.  That  scoundrel,  her 
father,  might  come  after  her ;  he  'd  have  the  right  if  he 
wished  to  enforce  it,  and  what  a  scandal  he'd  bring  upon 
us  all !  " 

' '  But  would  he  care  to  do  it  ?  Is  he  not  more  likely  to  be 
glad  to  be  disembarrassed  of  her  charge  ?  " 

"  Not  if  he  was  going  to  sell  her,  —  not  if  he  could  convert 
her  into  money." 

"  He  has  never  been  in  England;  he  may  not  know  how 
far  the  law  would  give  him  any  power  over  her." 

"Don't  trust  that,  Kate;  a  blackguard  always  can  find 
out  how  much  is  in  his  favor  everywhere.  If  he  doesn't 
know  it  now,  he'd  know  it  the  day  after  he  landed."  He 
paused  an  instant,  and  then  said:  "There will  be  the  devil 
to  pay  with  old  Peter  Gill,  for  he  '11  want  all  the  cash  I  can 
scrape  together  for  Loughrea  fair.  He  counts  on  having 
eighty  sheep  down  there  at  the  long  crofts,  and  a  cow  or 
two  besides.     That 's  money's  worth,  girl !  " 

Another  silence  followed,  after  which  he  said,  "  And  I 
think  worse  of  the  Greek  scoundrel  than  all  the  cost." 

"  Somehow,  I  have  no  fear  that  he  'II  come  here." 

"  You  '11  have  to  talk  over  Peter,  Kitty,"  —  he  always  said 
Kitty  when  he  meant  to  coax  her.  "  He  '11  mind  you,  and  at 
all  events  you  don't  care  about  his  grumbling.  Tell  him  it's 
a  sudden  call  on  me  for  railroad  shares,  or  "  —  and  here  he 
winked  knowingly  —  ' '  say,  it 's  going  to  Rome  the  money 
is,  and  for  the  Pope !  " 

"That's  an  excellent  thought,  papa,"  said  she,  laughing; 
"I'll  certainly  tell  him  the  money  is  going  to  Rome,  and 
you  '11  write  soon,  —  you  see  with  what  anxiety  she  expects 
your  answer." 

"I'll  write  to-night  when  the  house  is  quiet,  and  there's 

2 


18  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

DO  racket  nor  disturbance  about  me."  Now,  though  Kearney 
said  this  with  a  perfect  conviction  of  its  truth  and  reason- 
ableness, it  would  have  been  very  difficult  for  any  one  to  say 
in  what  that  racket  he  spoke  of  consisted,  or  wherein  the 
quietude  of  even  midnight  was  greater  than  that  which  pre- 
vailed there  at  noonday.  Never,  perhaps,  were  lives  more 
completely  still  or  monotonous  than  theirs.  People  who 
derive  no  interests  from  the  outer  world,  who  know  nothing 
of  what  goes  on  in  life,  gradually  subside  into  a  condition  in 
which  reflection  takes  the  place  of  conversation,  and  lose  all 
zest  and  all  necessity  for  that  small  talk  which  serves,  like 
the  changes  of  a  game,  to  while  away  time,  and  by  the  aid 
of  which,  if  we  do  no  more,  we  often  delude  the  cares  and 
worries  of  existence. 

A  kind  good-morning  when  they  met,  and  a  few  words 
during  the  day,  —  some  mention  of  this  or  that  event  of 
the  farm  or  the  laborers,  and  rare  enough  too,  —  some 
little  incident  that  happened  amongst  the  tenants,  made 
all  the  materials  of  their  intercouse,  and  filled  up  lives 
which  either  would  very  freely  have  owned  were  far  from 
unhappy. 

Dick,  indeed,  when  he  came  home  and  was  weather-bound 
for  a  day,  did  lament  his  sad  destiny,  and  mutter  half  intelli- 
gible nonsense  of  what  he  would  not  rather  do  than  descend 
to  such  a  melancholy  existence ;  but  in  all  his  complainings 
he  never  made  Kate  discontented  with  her  lot,  or  desire  any- 
thing beyond  it. 

"  It 's  all  very  well,"  he  would  say,  "till  you  know  some- 
thing better." 

''But  I  want  no  better!" 

"Do  you  mean  you'd  like  to  go  through  life  in  this 
fashion?  " 

"  I  can't  pretend  to  say  what  I  may  feel  as  I  grow  older ; 
but  if  I  could  be  sure  to  be  as  I  am  now,  I  could  ask  nothing 
better." 

"  I  must  say,  it 's  a  very  inglorious  life  !  "  said  he,  with  a 
sneer. 

"So  it  is,  but  how  many,  may  I  ask,  are  there  who 
lead  glorious  lives?  Is  there  any  glory  in  dining  out,  in 
dancing,  visiting,  and  picnicking  ?    Where  is  the  great  glory 


THE  PRINCE  KOSTALERGI.  19 

of  the  billiard-table  or  the  croquet-lawn?  No,  no,  my 
dear  Dick,  the  only  glory  that  falls  to  the  share  of  such 
humble  folks  as  we  are,  is  to  have  something  to  do,  and 
to  do  it." 

Such  were  the  sort  of  passages  which  would  now  and  then 
occur  between  them,  —  little  contests,  be  it  said,  in  which  she 
usually  came  off  the  conqueror. 

If  she  were  to  have  a  wish  gratified,  it  would  have  been  af 
few  more  books,  —  something  besides  those  odd  volumes  of  j 
Scott's  novels,  ''Zeluco"  by  Dr.  Moore,  and  "Florence 
M'Carthy,"  which  comprised  her  whole  library,  an3  which  she 
read  over  and  over  unceasingly.  She  was  now  in  her  usual 
place,  —  a  deep  window-seat  —  intently  occupied  with  Amy 
Robsart's  sorrows,  when  her  father  came  to  read  what  he  had 
written  in  answer  to  Nina.  If  it  was  very  brief  it  was  very 
affectionate.  It  told  her  in  a  few  words  that  she  had  no  need 
to  recall  the  ties  of  their  relationship ;  that  his  heart  never 
ceased  to  remind  him  of  them  ;  that  his  home  was  a  very  dull 
one,  but  that  her  cousin  Kate  would  try  and  make  it  a  happy 
one  to  her ;  entreated  her  to  confer  with  the  banker,  to  whom 
he  remitted  forty  pounds,  in  what  way  she  could  make  the 
journey,  since  he  was  too  broken  in  health  himself  to  go  and 
fetch  her.  "It  is  a  bold-  step  I  am  counselling  you,  to 
take.  It  is  no  light  thing  to  quit  a  father's  home,  and  I 
have  my  misgivings  how  far  I  am  a  wise  advisfer  in  recom- 
mending it.  There  is,  however,  a  present  peril,  and  I* must 
try,  if  I  can,  to  save  you  from  it.  Perhaps,  in  my  old-world 
notions,  I  attach  to  the  thought  of  the  stage  ideas  that  you 
would  only  smile  at ;  but  none  of  our  race,  so  far  as  I  know, 
fell  to  that  condition,  —  nor  must  you  while  1  have  a  roof 
to  shelter  you. 

''If  you  would  write  and  say  about  what  time  I  might 
expect  you,  I  will  try  to  meet  you  on  your  landing  in  Eng- 
land at  Dover. 

"Kate  sends  you  her  warmest  love,  and  longs  to  see 
you." 

This  was  the  whole  of  it.  But  a  brief  line  to  the 
bankers  said  that  any  expense  they  judged  needful  to  her 
safe  convoy  across  Europe  would  be  gratefully  repaid  by 
him. 


20  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

"Is  it  all  right,  dear?  Have  I  forgotten  anything?" 
asked  he,  as  Kate  read  it  over. 

**It's  everything,  papa,  —  everything.  And  I  do  long  to 
see  her." 

*'I  hope  she's  like  Matty;  if  she's  only  like  her  poor 
mother,  it  will  make  my  heart  young  again  to  look  at  her." 


CHAPTER  III. 

*'the   chums.'* 

In  that  old  square  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  one  side  of 
which  fronts  the  Park,  and  in  chambers  on  the  ground  floor, 
an  oak  door  bore  the  names  of  "Kearney  and  Atlee." 

Kearney  was  the  son  of  Lord  Kilgobbin ;  Atlee,  his  chum, 
the  son  of  a  Presbyterian  minister  in  the  North  of  Ireland, 
had  been  four  years  in  the  university,  but  was  still  in  his 
freshman  period,  not  from  any  deficiency  of  scholarlike 
ability  to  push  on,  but  that,  as  the  poet  of  the  "Seasons'* 
lay  in  bed,  because  he  "had  no  motive  for  rising,"  Joe  Atlee 
felt  that  there  need  be  no  urgency  about  taking  a  degree 
which,  when  he  had  got,  he  should  be  sorely  puzzled  to  know 
what  to  do  with.  He  was  a  clever,  ready-witted,  but  capri- 
cious fellow,  fond  of  pleasure,  and  self-indulgent  to  a  degree 
that  ill  suited  his  very  smallest  of  fortunes ;  for  his  father 
was  a  poor  man,  with  a  large  family,  and  had  already  embar- 
rassed himself  heavily  by  the  cost  of  sending  his  eldest  son 
to  the  university.  Joe's  changes  of  purpose  —  for  he  had 
in  succession  abandoned  law  for  medicine,  medicine  for 
theology,  and  theology  for  civil  engineering,  and,  finally, 
gave  them  all  up  —  had  so  outraged  his  father  that  he  de- 
clared he  would  not  continue  any  allowance  to  him  beyond 
the  present  year;  to  which  Joe  replied  by  the  same  post, 
sending  back  the  twenty  pounds  enclosed  him,  and  saying: 
"The  only  amendment  I  would  make  to  your  motion  is  —  as 
to  the  date  —  let  it  begin  from  to-day.  I  suppose  I  shall 
have  to  swim  without  corks  some  time.  I  may  as  well  try 
now  as  later  on." 

The  first  experience  of  his  "swimming  without  corks  "  was 
to  lie  in  bed  two  days  and  smoke;  the  next  was  to  rise  at 
daybreak  and  set  out  on  a  long  walk  into  the  country,  from 


-^ 


ih 


22  LORD  KILGOBBIK 

which   he   returned  late  at  night,  wearied  and  exhausted, 
having  eaten  but  once  during  the  day. 

Kearney,  dressed  for  an  evening  party,  resplendent  with 

jewelry,  essenced  and  curled,  was  about  to  issue  forth,  when 

L  ^^4  Atlee,  dusty  and  way-worn,  entered  and  threw  himself  into 

r   X  ^  chair. 

fsx  "What  lark  have  you  been  on,  Master  Joe?"    he  said. 

*'I  have  not  seen  you  for  three  days,  if  not  four!  " 

"No;  I  've  begun  to  train,"  said  he,  gravely.  "I  want  to 
see  how  long  a  fellow  could  hold  on  to  life  on  three  pipes 
of  Cavendish  per  diem.  I  take  it  that  the  absorbents  won't 
(il^  be  more  cruel  than  a  man's  creditors,  and  will  not  issue  a 
distraint  where  there  are  no  assets,  so  that  probably  by  the 
time  I  shall  have  brought  myself  down  to,  let  us  say,  seven 

r^    stone  weight,  I  shall  have  reached  the  goal." 
V^jiA'-^'T^his  speech  he  delivered  slowly  and*  calmly,   as  though 
C^       A  enunciating  a  very  grave  proposition. 

y^  "What  new  nonsense    is  this?   Don't  you   think  health 

worth  something?  " 
^  '  "Next  to  life,  unquestionably;  but  one  condition  of 
health  is  to  be  alive,  and  I  don't  see  how  to  manage  that. 
Look  here,  Dick,  I  have  just  had  a  quarrel  with  my  father; 
he  is  an  excellent  man  and  an  impressive  preacher,  but  he 
fails  in  the  imaginative  qualities.  Nature  has  been  a  nig- 
gard to  him  in  inventiveness.  He  is  the  minister  of  a  little 
parish  called  Aghadoe,  in  the  North,  where  they  give  him 
two  hundred  and  ten  pounds  per  annum.  There  are  eight 
in  family,  and  he  actually  does  not  see  his  way  to  allow  me 
one  hundred  and  fifty  out  of  it.  That 's  the  way  they  neg- 
lect arithmetic  in  our  modern  schools !  " 

"  Has  he  reduced  your  allowance?  " 

"He  has  done  more;  he  has  extinguished  it." 

"Have  you  provoked  him  to  this?  " 

"I  have  provoked  him  to  it." 

"But  is  it  not  possible  to  accommodate  matters?  It 
should  not  be  very  difficult,  surely,  to  show  him  that  once 
you  are  launched  in  life  —  " 

"And  when  will  that  be,  Dick?  "  broke  in  the  other.  "I 
have  been  on  the  stocks  these  four  years,  and  that  launch- 
ing process  you  talk  of  looks  just  as  remote  as  ever.     No, 


"THE   CHUMS."  23 

no ;  let  us  be  fair :  he  has  all  the  right  on  his  side ;  all  the 
wrong  is  on  mine.  Indeed,  so  far  as  conscience  goes,  I  have 
always  felt  it  so;  but  one's  conscience,  like  one's  boots,  gets 
so  pliant  from  wear,  that  it  ceases  to  give  pain.  Still,  on 
my  honor,  I  never  hip-hurraed  to  a  toast  that  I  did  not  feel 
there  goes  broken  boots  to  one  of  the  boys,  or,  worse  again, 
the  cost  of  a  cotton  dress  for  one  of  the  sisters.  Whenever 
I  took  a  sherry-cobbler  I  thought  of  suicide  after  it.  Self- 
indulgence  and  self-reproach  got  linked  in  my  nature  so 
inseparably  it  was  hopeless  to  summon  one  without  the 
other ;  till  at  last  I  grew  to  believe  it  was  very  heroic  in  me 
to  deny  myself  nothing,  seeing  how  sorry  I  should  be  for  it 
afterwards.  But  come,  old  fellow,  don't  lose  your  evening; 
we  '11  have  time  enough  to  talk  over  these  things.  Where 
are  you  going  ?  " 

"To  the  Clancys'." 

"To  be  sure;  what  a  fellow  I  am  to  forget  it  was  Letty's 
birthday,  and  I  was  to  have  brought  her  a  bouquet!  Dick, 
be  a  good  fellow  and  tell  her  some  lie  or  other,  —  that  I 
was  sick  in  bed,  or  away  to  see  an  aunt  or  a  grandmother, 
and  that  I  had  a  splendid  bouquet  for  her,  but  would  n't  let 
it  reach  her  through  other  hands  than  my  own;  but  to- 
morrow—  to-morrow  she  shall  have  it." 

"You  know  well  enough  you  don't  mean  anything  of  the 
sort." 

"  On  my  honor,  I  '11  keep  my  promise.  I  've  an  old  silver 
watch  yonder;  I  think  it  knows  the  way  to  the  pawn-office 
by  itself.  There,  now  be  off,  for  if  I  begin  to  think  of  all 
the  fun  you  're  going  to,  I  shall  just  dress  and  join  you." 

"No,  I'd  not  do  that,"  said  Dick,  gravely;  "nor  shall  I 
stay  long  myself.  Don't  go  to  bed,  Joe,  till  I  come  back. 
Good-bye." 

"Say  all  good  and  sweet  things  to  Letty  for  me.  Tell 
her  —  "  Kearney  did  not  wait  for  his  message,  but  hurried 
down  the  steps  and  drove  off. 

Joe  sat  down  at  the  fire,  filled  his  pipe,  looked  steadily  at 
it,  and  then  laid  it  on' the  mantelpiece.  "No,  no.  Master 
Joe.  You  must  be  thrifty  now.  You  have  smoked  twice 
since  —  I  can  afford  to  say  —  since  dinner-time,  for  you 
haven't  dined.     It  is  strange,  now  that  the  sense  of  hunger 


24  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

has  passed  off,  what  a  sense  of  excitement  I  feel.  Two 
hours  back  I  could  have  been  a  cannibal.  I  believe  I  could 
have  eaten  the  vice-provost,  —  though  I  should  have  liked 
him  strongly  devilled;  and  now  I  feel  stimulated.  Hence 
it  is,  perhaps,  that  so  little  wine  is  enough  to  affect  the 
heads  of  starving  people,  —  almost  maddening  them.  Per- 
haps Dick  suspected  something  of  this,  for  he  did  not  care 
that  I  should  go  along  with  him.  Who  knows  but  he  may 
have  thought  the  sight  of  a  supper  might  have  overcome 
me?  If  he  knew  but  all!  I  'm  much  more  disposed  to  make 
love  to  Letty  Clancy  than  to  go  in  for  galantine  and  cham- 
pagne. By  the  way,  I  wonder  if  the  physiologists  are  aware 
of  that?  It  is,  perhaps,  what  constitutes  the  ethereal  condi- 
tion of  love.  I  '11  write  an  essay  on  that,  or,  better  still, 
I  '11  write  a  review  of  an  imaginary  French  essay.  French- 
•men  are  permitted  to  say  so  much  more  than  we  are,  and 
I  '11  be  rebukeful  on  the  score  of  his  excesses.  The  bitter 
way  in  which  a  Frenchman  always  visits  his  various  inca- 
pacities —  whether  it  be  to  know  something,  or  to  do  some- 
thing, or  to  be  something  —  on  the  species  he  belongs  to; 
the  way  in  which  he  suggests  that,  had  he  been  consulted  on 
the  matter,  humanity  had  been  a  much  more  perfect  organi- 
zation, and  able  to  sustain  a  great  deal  more  of  wickedness 
without  disturbance,  is  great  fun.  I  '11  certainly  invent  a 
Frenchman,  and  make  him  an  author,  and  then  demolish  him. 
What  if  I  make  him  die  of  hunger,  having  tasted  nothing  for 
eight  days  but  the  proof-sheets  of  his  great  work, —  the  work 
I  am  then  reviewing  ?  For  four  days  —  but  stay ;  —  if  I 
starve  him  to  death,  I  cannot  tear  his  work  to  pieces.  No ; 
he  shall  be  alive,  living  in  splendor  and  honor,  a  frequenter 
of  the  Tuileries,  a  favored  guest  at  Compiegne." 

Without  perceiving  it,  he  had  now  taken  his  pipe,  lighted 
it,  and  was  smoking  away.  "By  the  way,  how  those 
same  Imperialists  have  played  the  game !  —  the  two  or  three 
middle-aged  men  that  Kingl-ake  says,  '  Put  their  heads 
together  to  plan  for  a  livelihood ; '  I  wish  they  had  taken 
me  into  the  partnership.  It 's  the  'sort  of  thing  I  'd  have 
liked  well;  ay,  and  I  could  have  done  it,  too!  I  wonder,'* 
said  he,  aloud,  — "I  wonder  if  I  were  an  emperor  should  I 
marry  Letty   Clancy?     I  suspect   not.     Letty  would   have 


"THE   CHUMS."  25 

been  flippant  as  an  empress,  and  her  cousins  would  have 
made  atrocious  princes  of  the  Imperial  family;  though,  for 
the  matter  of  .  that  —  Hullo !  Here  have  I  been  smoking 
without  knowing  it!  Can  any  one  tell  us  whether  the  sins 
we  do  inadvertently  count  as  sins,  or  do  we  square  them  off 
by  our  inadvertent  good  actions?  I  trust  I  shall  not  be 
called  on  to  catalogue  mine.  There,  my  courage  is  out!  " 
As  he  said  this  he  emptied  the  ashes  of  his  pipe,  and  gazed 
sorrowfully  at  the  empty  bowl. 

"Now,  if  I  were  the  son  of  some  good  house,  with  a  high- 
sounding  name  and  well-to-do  relations,  I  'd  soon  bring  them 
to  terms  if  they  dared  to  cast  me  off.  I  'd  turn  milk  or 
muffin  man,  and  serve  the  street  they  lived  in.  I  'd  sweep 
the  crossing  in  front  of  their  windows,  or  I  'd  commit  a 
small  theft,  and  call  on  my  high  connections  for  a  character; 
but  being  who  and  what  I  am,  I  might  do  any  or  all  of 
these,  and  shock  nobody. 

"Next,  to  take  stock  of  my  effects.  Let  me  see  what  my 
assets  will  bring  when  reduced  to  cash;  for  this  time  it 
shall  be  a  sale."  And  he  turned  to  a  table  where  paper 
and  pens  were  lying,  and  proceeded  to  write.  "Personal, 
sworn  under,  let  us  say,  ten  thousand  pounds.  Literature 
first.  To  divers  worn  copies  of  Virgil,  Tacitus,  Juvenal, 
and  Ovid,  Caesar's  Commentaries,  and  Catullus;  to  ditto 
ditto  of  Homer,  Lucian,  Aristophanes,  Balzac,  Anacreon, 
Bacon's  Essays,  and  Moore's  Melodies;  to  Dwight's 
Theology,  uncut  copy;  Heine's  Poems,  very  much  thumbed; 
Saint  Simon,  very  ragged;  two  volumes  of  Les  Causes 
Celebres,  Tone's  Memoirs,  and  Beranger's  Songs;  to 
Cuvier's  Comparative  Anatomy,  Schroeder  on  Shakspeare, 
Newman's  Apology,  Archbold's  Criminal  Law  and  Songs 
of  the  Nation;  to  Colenso,  East's  Cases  for  the  Crown, 
Carte's  Ormonde,  and  Pickwick.  But  why  go  on?  Let  us 
call  it  the  small  but  well-selected  library  of  a  distressed 
gentleman,  whose  cultivated  mind  is  reflected  in  the  marginal 
notes  with  which  these  volumes  abound.  Will  any  gentle- 
man say,  '  £10  for  the  lot'?  Why,  the  very  criticisms  are 
worth  —  I  mean  to  a  man  of  literary  tastes  —  five  times  the 
amount.  No  offer  at  £10?  Who  is  it  that  says  'five'? 
I  trust  my  ears  have  deceived  me.     You  repeat  the  insult- 


26  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

ing  proposal?  Well,  sir,  on  your  own  head  be  it!  Mr. 
Atlee's  library  —  or  the  Atlee  collection  is  better  —  was 
yesterday  disposed  of  to  a  well-known  collector  of  rare 
books,  and,  if  we  are  rightly  informed,  for  a  mere  fraction 
of  its  value.  Never  mind,  sir,  I  bear  you  no  ill-will!  I 
was  irritable,  and  to  show  you  my  honest  animus  in  the 
matter,  I  beg  to  present  you,  in  addition  with  this,  a  hand- 
somely bound  and  gilt  copy  of  a  sermon  by  the  Reverend 
Isaac  Atlee,  on  the  opening  of  the  new  meeting-house  in 
Coleraine,  —  a  discourse  that  cost  my  father  some  sleepless 
nights,  though  1  have  heard  the  effect  on  the  congregation 
was  dissimilar. 

"The  pictures  are  few.  Cardinal  Cullen,  I  believe,  is 
Kearney's;  at  all  events,  he  is  the  worse  for  being  made  a 
target  for  pistol-firing,  and  the  archiepiscopal  nose  has 
been  sorely  damaged.  Two  views  of  Killarney  in  the 
weather  of  the  period,  —  that  means  July,  and  raining  in 
torrents,"  and  consequently  the  scene,  for  aught  discover- 
able, might  be  the  Gaboon.  Portrait  of  Joe  Atlee,  setatis 
four  years,  with  a  villanous  squint,  and  something  that 
looks  like  a  plug  in  the  left  jaw.  A  Skye  terrier,  painted, 
it  is  supposed,  by  himself;  not  to  recite  unframed  prints 
of  various  celebrities  of  the  ballet,  in  accustomed  attitudes, 
with  the  Reverend  Paul  Bloxham  blessing  some  children  — 
though  from  the  gesture  and  the  expression  of  the  juveniles 
it  might  seem  cuffing  them  —  on  the  inauguration  of  the 
Sunday-school  at  Kilmurry  Macmacmahon. 

"  Lot  three,  interesting  to  anatomical  lecturers  and  others, 
especially  those  engaged  in  palaeontology.  The  articulated 
skeleton  of  an  Irish  giant,  representing  a  man  who  must 
have  stood  in  his  no-stockings  eight  feet  four  inches. 
This,  I  may  add,  will  be  warranted  as  authentic,  in  so  far 
that  I  made  him  myself  out  of  at  least  eighteen  or  twenty 
big  specimens,  with  a  few  slight  '  divergencies '  I  may  call 
them,  such  as  putting  in  eight  more  dorsal  vertebrae  than 
the  regulation,  and  that  the  right  femur  is  two  inches  longer 
than  the  left.  The  inferior  maxillary,  too,  was  stolen  from 
a  '  Pithacus  Satyrus  '  in  the  Cork  Museum  by  an  old  friend, 
since  transported  for  Fenianism.  These  blemishes  apart, 
he  is  an  admirable  giant,  and  fully  as  ornamental  and 
useful  as  the  species  generally. 


"  THE   CHUMS."  27 

*'As  to  my  wardrobe,  it  is  less  costly  than  curious;  an 
alpaca  paletot  of  a  neutral  tint,  which  I  have  much  affected 
of  late,  having  indisposed  me  to  other  wear.  For  dinner 
and  evening  duty  I  usually  wear  Kearney's,  though  too 
tight  across  the  chest,  and  short  in  the  sleeves.  These, 
with  a  silver  watch  which  no  pawnbroker —  and  I  have  tried 
eight  —  will  ever  advance  more  on  than  seven-and-six.  I 
once  got  the  figure  up  to  nine  shillings  by  supplementing 
an  umbrella,  which  was  Dick's,  and  which  still  remains 
'  unclaimed  and   unredeemed. ' 

"Two  o'clock,  by  all  that  is  supperless!  evidently  Kear- 
ney is  enjoying  himself.  Ah,  youth,  youth!  I  wish  I  could 
remember  some  of  the  spiteful  things  that  are  said  of  you, 
—  not  but  on  the  whole,  I  take  it,  you  have  the  right  end  of 
the  stick.  Is  it  possible  there  is  nothing  to  eat  in  this  in- 
hospitable mansion?"  He  arose  and  opened  a  sort  of  cup- 
board in  the  wall,  scrutinizing  it  closely  with  the  candle. 
*' '  Give  me  but  the  superfluities  of  life,'  says  Gavarni, 
'  and  I  '11  not  trouble  you  for  its  necessaries.'  What  would 
he  say,  however,  to  a  fellow  famishing  with  hunger  in  pres- 
ence of  nothing  but  pickled  mushrooms  and  Worcester 
sauce!  Oh,  here  is  a  crust!  'Bread  is  the  staff  of  life.' 
On  my  oath,  I  believe  so;  for  this  eats  devilish  like  a 
walking-stick. 

"Hullo!  back  already?  "  cried  he,  as  Kearney  flung  wide 
the  door  and  entered.  "I  suppose  you  hurried  away  back 
to  join  me  at  supper." 

"Thanks;  but  I  have  supped  already,  and  at  a  more 
tempting  banquet  than  this  I  see  before  you." 

"Was  it  pleasant?  was  it  jolly?  Were  the  girls  looking 
lovely?  Was  the  champagne-cup  well  iced?  Was  every- 
body charming?  Tell  me  all  about  it.  Let  me  have 
second-hand  pleasure,  since  I  can't  afford  the  new  article." 

"It  was  pretty  much  like  every  other  small  ball  here, 
where  the  garrison  get  all  the  prettiest  girls  for  partners, 
and  take  the  mammas  down  to  supper  after." 

"Cunning  dogs,  who  secure  flirtation  above  stairs  and 
food  below!  And  what  is  stirring  in  the  world?  What  are 
the  gayeties  in  prospect?  Are  any  of  my  old  flames  about 
to  get  married?  " 


28  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

"I  did  n't  know  you  had  any." 

"Have  I  not!  I  believe  half  the  parish  of  St.  Peter's 
might  proceed  against  me  for  breach  of  promise ;  and  if  the 
law  allowed  me  as  many  wives  as  Brigham  Young,  I  'd  be 
still  disappointing  a  large  and  interesting  section  of  society 
in  the  suburbs." 

"They  have  made  a  seizure  on  the  office  of  the  'Pike,' 
carried  off  the  press  and  the  whole  issue,  and  are  in  eager 
pursuit  after  Madden,  the  editor." 

"What  for?     What  is  it  all  about?  " 

"A  new  ballad  he  has  published;  but  which,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  they  were  singing  at  every  corner  as  I 
came  along." 

"Was  it  good?     Did  you  buy  a  copy?  " 

"Buy  a  copy?     I  should  think  not." 

"Couldn't  your  patriotism  stand  the  test  of  a  penny?" 

"  It  might  if  I  wanted  the  production,  which  I  certainly 
did  not;  besides,  there  is  a  run  upon  this,  and  they  were 
selling  it  at  sixpence." 

"Hurrah!  There's  hope  for  Ireland  after  all!  Shall  I 
sing  it  for  you,  old  fellow?  Not  that  you  deserve  it.  Eng- 
lish corruption  has  damped  the  little  Irish  ardor  that  old 
rebellion  once  kindled  in  your  heart;  and  if  you  could  get 
rid  of  your  brogue,  you  're  ready  to  be  loyal.  You  shall 
hear  it,  however,  all  the  same."  And  taking  up  a  very 
damaged-looking  guitar,  he  struck  a  few  bold  chords,  and 
began : — 


Is  there  anything  more  we  can  fight  or  can  hate  for  ■? 

The  "  drop  "  and  the  famine  have  made  our  ranks  thin. 
In  the  name  of  endurance,  then,  what  do  we  wait  for  ? 

Will  nobody  give  us  the  word  to  begin  ? 

Some  brothers  have  left  us  in  sadness  and  sorrow, 
In  despair  of  the  cause  they  had  sworn  to  win ; 

They  owned  they  were  sick  of  that  cry  of  "  to-morrow ; " 
Not  a  man  would  believe  that  we  meant  to  begin. 

We  've  been  ready  for  months  —  is  there  one  can  deny  it  ? 

Is  there  any  one  here  thinks  rebellion  a  sin  "? 
We  counted  the  cost  —  and  we  did  not  decry  it, 

And  we  asked  for  no  more  than  the  word  to  begin. 


"THE  CHUMS."  29 

At  Vinegar  Hill,  when  our  fathers  were  fighters, 
With  numbers  against  them,  they  cared  not  a  pin; 

They  needed  no  orders  from  newspaper  writers, 
To  tell  them  the  day  it  was  time  to  begin. 

To  sit  down  here  in  sadness  and  silence  to  bear  it, 

Is  harder  to  face  than  the  battle's  loud  din ; 
'T  is  the  shame  that  will  kill  me  —  I  vow  it,  I  swear  it ! 

Now  or  never  's  the  time,  if  we  mean  to  begin. 

There  was  a  wild  rapture  in  the  way  he  struck  the  last 
chords,  that,  if  it  did  not  evince  ecstasy,  seemed  to  coun- 
terfeit enthusiasm. 

"Very  poor  doggerel,  with  all  your  bravura,"  said  Kear- 
ney, sneeringly. 

"What  would  you  have?  I  only  got  three-and-six 
for  it." 

"You!     Is  that  thing  yours?" 

"Yes,  sir;  that  thing  is  mine.  And  the  Castle  people 
think  somewhat  more  gravely  about  it  than  you  do." 

"At  which  you  are  pleased,  doubtless?" 

"  Not  pleased,  but  proud.  Master  Dick,  let  me  tell  you. 
It's  a  very  stimulating  reflection  to  the  man  who  dines  on 
an  onion,  that  he  can  spoil  the  digestion  of  another  fellow 
who  has  been  eating  turtle." 

"  But  you  may  have  to  go  to  prison  for  this." 

"Not  if  you  don't  peach  on  me,  for  you  are  the  only 
one  who  knows  the  authorship.  You  see,  Dick,  these  things 
are  done  cautiously.  They  are  dropped  into  a  letter-box 
with  an  initial  letter,  and  a  clerk  hands  the  payment  to 
some  of  those  itinerant  hags  that  sing  the  melody,  and  who 
can  be  trusted  with  the  secret  as  implicitly  as  the  briber 
at  a  borough  election." 

"  I  wish  you  had  a  better  livelihood,  Joe." 

' '  So  do  I,  or  that  my  present  one  paid  better.  The 
fact  is,  Dick,  patriotism  never  was  worth  much  as  a  career  | 
till  one  got  to  the  top  of  the  profession.  But  if  you  mean 
to  sleep  at  all,  old  fellow,  '  it 's  time  to  begin ; ' "  and  he 
chanted  out  the  last  words  in  a  clear  and  ringing  tone,  as 
he  banged  the  door  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AT    ''  TRINITY." 

It  was  while  the  two  young  men  were  seated  at  breakfast 
that  the  post  arrived,  bringing  a  number  of  country  news- 
papers, for  which,  in  one  shape  or  other,  Joe  Atlee  wrote 
something.  Indeed,  he  was  an  "own  correspondent,"  dat- 
ing from  London,  or  Paris,  or  occasionally  from  Rome, 
with  an  easy  freshness,  and  a  local  color  that  vouched  for 
authenticity.  These  journals  were  of  a  very  political  tint, 
from  emerald  green  to  the  deepest  orange ;  and,  indeed,  be- 
tween two  of  them  —  the  "  Tipperary  Pike"  and  the  "  Boyne 
Water,"  hailing  from  Carrickfergus  —  there  was  a  contro- 
versy of  such  violence  and  intemperance  of  language,  that 
it  was  a  curiosity  to  see  the  two  papers  on  the  same  table ; 
the  fact  being  capable  of  explanation,  that  they  were  both 
written  by  Joe  Atlee,  —  a  secret,  however,  that  he  had  not 
confided  even  to  his  friend  Kearney. 

"Will  that  fellow  that  signs  himself  Terry  O'Toole  in 
the  '  Pike '  stand  this  ? "  cried  Kearney,  reading  aloud  from 
the  "Boyne  Water":  — 

"  '  We  know  the  man  who  corresponds  with  you  under  the  signa- 
ture of  Terry  O'Toole,  and  it  is  but  one  of  the  ahases  under  which 
he  has  lived  since  he  came  out  of  the  Richmond  Bridewell,  filcher, 
forger,  and  false  witness.  There  is  yet  one  thing  he  has  never 
tried,  which  is  to  behave  with  a  little  courage.  If  he  should,  how- 
ever, be  able  to  persuade  himself,  by  the  aid  of  his  accustomed 
stimulants,  to  accept  the  responsibility  of  what  he  has  written,  we 
bind  ourselves  to  pay  his  expenses  to  any  part  of  France  or  Belgium, 
where  he  will  meet  us,  and  we  shall  also  bind  ourselves  to  give  him 
what  his  life  little  entitles  him  to,  a  Christian  burial  afterwards. 

*"No  Surrender.'" 


AT   "TRINITY."  31 

*Iam  just  reading  the  answer,"  said  Joe.     "It  is  very 
brief ;    here  it  is  :  — 

"  *  If  "  No  Surrender  "  —  who  has  been  a  newsvender  in  your 
estabUshment  since  you  yourself  rose  from  that  employ  to  the 
editor's  chair  —  will  call  at  this  office  any  morning  after  distributing 
his  eight  copies  of  your  daily  issue,  we  promise  to  give  him  such  a 
kicking  as  he  has  never  experienced  during  his  literary  career. 

"  '  Terry  O'Toole.'  " 

"  And  these  are  the  amenities  of  journalism,"  cried 
Kearney.  * 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,  you  might  exclaim  at  the  quack 
doctor  of  a  fair,  and  ask,  Is  this  the  dignity  of  medicine?" 
said  Joe.  "There's  a  head  and  a  tail  to  every  walk  in 
life :  even  the  law  has  a  Chief  Justice  at  one  end  and  a 
Jack  Ketch  at  the  other." 

"  Well,  I  sincerely  wish  that  those  blackguards  would 
first  kick  and  then  shoot  each  other." 

"They'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind!  It's  just  as  likely 
that  they  wrote  the  whole  correspondence  at  the  same 
table  and  with  the  same  jug  of  punch  between  them." 

"  If  so,  I  don't  envy  you  your  career  or  your  comrades." 

"  It 's  a  lottery  with  big  prizes  in  the  wheel  all  the  same ! 
I  could  tell  you  the  names  of  great  swells.  Master  Dick, 
who  have  made  very  proud  places  for  themselves  in  Eng- 
land by  what  you  call  '  journalism.'  In  France  it  is  the 
one  road  to  eminence.  Cannot  you  imagine,  besides,  what 
capital  fun  it  is  to  be  able  to  talk  to  scores  of  people 
you  were  never  introduced  to?  to  tell  them  an  infinity  of 
things  on  public  matters,  or  now  and  then  about  them- 
selves ;  and  in  so  many  moods  as  you  have  tempers,  to 
warn  them,  scold,  compassionate,  correct,  console,  or  abuse 
them?  to  tell  them  not  to  be  over-confident  or  bumptious 
or  purse-proud  —  " 

"And  who  are  you,  may  I  ask,  who  presume  to  do  all 
this?" 

"That's  as  it  may  be.  "We  are  occasionally  Guizot, 
Thiers,  Prevost-Paradol,  Lytton,  Disraeli,  or  Joe  Atlee." 

"Modest,  at  all  events." 

"  And  why  not  say  what  I  feel,  —  not  what  I  have  done, 


32  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

but  what  is  in  me  to  do  ?  Can't  you  understand  this :  it 
would  never  occur  to  me  that  I  could  vault  over  a  five-bar 
gate  if  I  had  been  born  a  cripple?  but  the  conscious  posses- 
sion of  a  little  pliant  muscularity  might  well  tempt  me  to 
try  it." 

'*  And  get  a  cropper  for  your  pains." 

"Be -it  so.  Better  the  cropper  than  pass  one's  life  look- 
ing over  the  top  rail  and  envying  the  fellow  that  had  cleared 
it ;  but  what 's  this  ?  here  's  a  letter  here  ;  it  got  in  amongst 
the  newspapers.  I  say,  Dick,  do  you  stand  this  sort  of 
thing?"  said  he,  as  he  read  the  address. 

"  Stand  what  sort  of  thing?  "  asked  the  other,  half  angrily. 

"Why,  to  be  addressed  in  this  fashion?  The  Honorable 
Richard  Kearney,  Trinity  College,  Dublin." 

"It  is  from  my  sister,"  said  Kearney,  as  he  took  the 
letter  impatiently  from  his  hand  ;  "  and  I  can  only  tell  you, 
if  she  had  addressed  me  otherwise,  I  'd  not  have  opened  her 
letter." 

"But  come  now,  old  fellow,  don't  lose  temper  about  it. 
You  have  a  right  to  this  designation,  or  you  have  not  —  " 

"I'll  spare  all  your  eloquence  by  simply  saying  that  I  do 
not  look  on  you  as  a  Committee  of  Privilege,  and  I  'm  not 
going  to  plead  before  you.  Besides,"  added  he,  "  it 's  only 
a  few  minutes  ago  you  asked  me  to  credit  you  for  something 
you  have  not  shown  yourself  to  be,  but  that  you  intended 
and  felt  that  the  world  should  see  you  were  one  of  these 
days." 

"  So,  then,  you  really  mean  to  bring  your  claim  before 
the  Lords?" 

Kearney,  if  he  heard,  did  not  heed  this  question,  but  went 
on  to  read  his  letter.  "  Here's  a  surprise !  "  cried  he.  "I 
was  telling  you,  the  other  day,  about  a  certain  cousin  of 
mine  we  were  expecting  from  Italy." 

"  The  daughter  of  that  swindler,  the  mock  prince?" 

"The  man's  character  I'll  not  stand  up  for,  but  his  rank 
and  title  are  alike  indisputable,"  said  Kearney,  haughtily. 

"  With  all  my  heart.  We  have  soared  into  a  high  atmos- 
phere all  this  day,  and  I  hope  my  respiration  will  get  used 
to  it  in  time.     Read  away  !  " 

It  was  not  till  after  a  considerable  interval  that  Kearney 


AT   "TRINITY."  33 

had  recovered  composure  enough  to  read,  and  when  he  did 
so  it  was  with  a  brow  furrowed  with  irritation :  — 


"  KiLGOBBIN. 

"  My  dear  Dick,  —  We  had  just  sat  down  to  tea  last  night,  and 
papa  was  fidgeting  about  the  length  of  time  his  letter  to  Italy  had 
remained  unacknowledged,  when  a  sharp  ring  at  the  house-door 
startled  us.  We  had  been  hearing  a  good  deal  of  searches  for  arms 
lately  in  the  neighborhood,  and  we  looked  very  blankly  at  each  other 
for  a  moment.  We  neither  of  us  said  so,  but  I  feel  sure  our  thoughts 
were  on  the  same  track,  and  that  we  believed  Captain  Rock,  or 
the  head  centre,  or  whatever  be  his  latest  title,  had  honored  us 
with  a  call.  Old  Mathew  seemed  of  the  same  mind  too,  for  he 
appeared  at  the  door  with  that  venerable  blunderbuss  we  have  so 
often  played  with,  and  which,  if  it  had  any  evil  thoughts  in  its 
head,  I  must  have  been  tried  for  a  murder  years  ago,  for  I  know  it 
was  loaded  since  I  was  a  child,  but  that  the  lock  has  for  the  same 
space  of  time  not  been  on  speaking  terms  with  the  barrel.  While, 
then,  thus  confirmed  in  our  suspicions  of  mischief  by  Mat's  warlike 
aspect,  we  both  rose  from  the  table,  the  door  opened,  and  a  youno- 
girl  rushed  in,  and  fell — actually  threw  herself  into  papa's  arms. 
It  was  Nina  herself,  who  had  come  all  the  way  from  Rome  alone,  — 
that  is,  without  any  one  she  knew,  and  made  her  way  to  us  here 
without  any  other  guidance  than  her  own  good  wits. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  how  delighted  we  are  with  her.  She  is  the 
loveliest  girl  I  ever  saw,  so  gentle,  so  nicely  mannered,  so  soft-voiced, ; 
and  so  winning  —  I  feel  myself  like  a  peasant  beside  her.  The| 
least  thing  she  says  —  her  laugh,  her  slightest  gesture,  the  way  she 
moves  about  the  room,  with  a  sort  of  swinging  grace,  which  I  thought; 
affected  at  first,  but  now  I  see  is  quite  natural  —  is  only  another  of 
her  many  fascinations. 

"  I  fancied  for  a  while  that  her  features  were  almost  too  beautifully  i 
regular  for  expression,  and  that  even  when  she  smiled  and  showed  | 
her  lovely  teeth,  her  eyes  got  no  increase  of  brightness  ;  but  as  I 
talked  more  with  her,  and  learned  to  know  her  better,  I  saw  that 
those  eyes  have  meanings  of  softness  and  depth  in  them  of  wonder- 
ful  power,  and,  stranger  than  all,  an  archness  that  shows  she  has  I 
plenty  of  humor, 

"  Her  Enghsh  is  charming,  but  slightly  foreign  ;  and  when  she  is 
at  a  loss  for  a  word,  there  is  just  that  much  of  difficulty  in  finding  it 
which  gives  a  heightened  expression  to  her  beautifully  calm  face, 
and  makes  it  lovely.  You  may  see  how  she  has  fascinated  me,  for  I 
could  go  on  raving  about  her  for  hours. 

"  She  is  very  anxious  to  see  you,  and  asks  me  over  and  over  again, 

3 


34  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

Shall  you  like  her  ?  I  was  almost  candid  enough  to  say  '  Too  well.  * 
I  mean  that  you  could  not  help  falling  in  love  with  her,  my  dear 
Dick,  and  she  is  so  much  above  us  in  style,  in  habit,  and  doubtless 
in  ambition,  that  such  would  be  only  madness.  When  she  saw 
your  photo  she  smiled,  and  said,  '  Is  he  not  superb  ?  —  I  mean 
proud  ?  *  I  owned  you  were,  and  then  she  added,  '  I  hope  he  will  like 
me.'  I  am  not  perhaps  discreet  if  I  tell  you  she  does  not  like  the 
portrait  of  your  chum,  Atlee,  She  says  'he  is  very  good-looking, 
very  clever,  very  witty,  but  is  n't  he  false  ? '  and  this  she  says  over 
and  over  again.  I  told  her  I  believed  not ;  that  I  had  never  seen 
him  myself,  but  that  I  knew  that  you  liked  him  greatly,  and  felt  to 
him  as  a  brother.  She  only  shook  her  head,  and  said,  '  Badate  bene 
a  quel  che  dico.  I  mean,"  said  she,  '  /  'm  right,  but  he 's  very  nice 
for  all  that ! '  If  I  tell  you  this,  Dick,  it  is  just  because  I  cannot 
get  it  out  of  my  head,  and  I  will  keep  saying  over  and  over  to  my- 
self, '  If  Joe  Atlee  be  what  she  suspects,  why  does  she  call  him 
.very nice  for  all  that?'  I  said  you  intended  to  ask  him  down  here 
next  vacation,  and  she  gave  the  drollest  little  laugh  in  the  world,  — 
and  does  she  not  look  lovely  when  she  shows  those  small  pearly 
teeth  ?  Heaven  help  you,  poor  Dick,  when  you  see  her  !  but,  if  I 
were  you,  I  should  leave  Master  Joe  behind  me,  for  she  smiles  as 
she  looks  at  his  likeness  in  a  way  that  would  certainly  make  me 
jealous,  if  I  were  only  Joe's  friend,  and  not  himself 

"  We  sat  up  in  Nina's  room  till  nigh  morning,  and  to-day  I  have 
scarcely  seen  her,  for  she  wants  to  be  let  sleep,  after  that  long  and 
tiresome  journey,  and  I  take  the  opportunity  to  write  you  this  very 
rambling  epistle ;  for  you  may  feel  sure  I  shall  be  less  of  a  correspond- 
ent now  than  when  I  was  without  companionship,  and  I  counsel  you 
to  be  very  grateful  if  you  hear  from  me  soon  again. 

"  Papa  wants  to  take  Duggan's  farm  from  him,  and  Lanty  Moore's 
meadows,  and  throw  them  into  the  lawn ;  but  1  hope  he  won't  persist 
in  the  plan  ;  not  alone  because  it  is  a  mere  extravagance,  but  that 
the  county  is  very  unsettled  just  now  about  land-tenure,  and  the 
people  are  hoping  all  sorts  of  things  from  Parliament,  and  any 
interference  with  them  at  this  time  would  be  ill  taken.  Father 
Cody  was  here  yesterday,  and  told  me  confidentially  to  prevent  papa, 
—  not  so  easy  a  thing  as  he  thinks,  particularly  if  he  should  come 
to  suspect  that  any  intimidation  was  intended, — and  Miss  O'Shea 
unfortunately  said  something  the  other  day  that  papa  cannot  get  out 
of  his  head,  and  keeps  on  repeating.  '  So,  then,  it 's  our  turn  now,' 
the  fellows  say  ;  '  the  landlords  have  had  five  hundred  years  of  it  ; 
\t  's  time  we  should  come  in.'  And  this  he  says  over  and  over  with 
a  little  laugh,  and  I  wish  to  my  heart  Miss  Betty  had  kept  it  to 
herself.  By  the  way.  her  nephew  is  to  come  on  leave,  and  pass  two 
months  with  her ;  and  she  says  she  hopes  you  will  be  here  at  the 


AT   "TRINITY."  35 

same  time,  to  keep  him  company  ;  but  I  have  a  notion  that  another 
playfellow  may  prove  a  dangerous  rival  to  the  Hungarian  hussar; 
perhaps,  however,  you  would  hand  over  Joe  Atlee  to  him. 

"  Be  sure  you  bring  us  some  new  books  and  some  music  when 
you  come,  or  send  them,  if  you  don't  come  soon.  I  am  terrified  lest 
Nina  should  think  the  place  dreary,  and  I  don't  know  how  she  is  to 
live  here  if  she  does  not  take  to  the  vulgar  drudgeries  that  fill  my 
own  life.  When  she  abruptly  asked  me,  'What  do  you  do  here?' 
I  was  sorely  puzzled  to  know  what  to  answer,  and  then  she  added 
quickly,  —  '  For  my  own  part,  it 's  no  great  matter,  for  I  can  always 
dream  I  'm  a  great  dreamer  ! '  Is  it  not  lucky  for  her,  Dick  ? 
She'll  have  ample  time  for  it  here. 

"  I  suppose  I  never  wrote  so  long  a  letter  as  this  in  my  life ; 
indeed  1  never  had  a  subject  that  had  such  a  fascination  for  myself. 
Do  you  know,  Dick,  that  though  1  promised  to  let  her  sleep  on  till 
nigh  dinner-time,  I  find  myself  every  now  and  then  creeping  up 
gently  to  her  door,  and  only  bethink  me  of  my  pledge  when  my 
hand  is  on  the  lock  ;  and  sometimes  I  even  doubt  if  she  is  here  at  all, 
and  I  am  half  crazy  at  fearing  it  may  be  all  a  dream. 

"  One  word  for  yourself,  and  I  have  done.  Why  have  you  not 
told  us  of  the  examination  ?  It  was  to  have  been  on  the  tenth,  and 
we  are  now  at  the  eighteenth.  Have  you  got  —  whatever  it  was? 
the  prize,  or  the  medal,  or  —  the  reward,  in  short,  we  were  so  anx- 
iously hoping  for  V  It  would  be  such  cheery  tidings  for  poor  papa, 
who  is  very  low  and  depressed  of  late,  and  I  see  him  always  read- 
ing with  such  attention  any  notice  of  the  College  he  can  find  in  the 
newspaper.  My  dear,  dear  brother,  how  you  would  work  hard  if  you 
only  knew  what  a  prize  success  in  hfe  might  give  you.  Little  as  I 
have  seen  of  her,  I  could  guess  that  she  will  never  bestow  a  thought 
on  an  undistinguished  man.  Come  down  for  one  day,  and  tell  me 
if  ever,  in  all  your  ambition,  you  had  such  a  goal  before  you  as 
this? 

"The  hoggets  I  sent  in  to  Tullamore  fair  were  not  sold;  but  I 
believe  Miss  Betty's  steward  will  take  them  ,*  and,  if  so,  1  will  send 
you  ten  pounds  next  week.  1  never  knew  the  market  so  dull,  and 
the  English  dealers  now  are  only  eager  about  horses,  and  I  'm  sure 
I  could  n't  part  with  any  if  I  had  them.     With  all  my  love,  I  am 

"  Your  ever  affectionate  sister, 

"Kate  Kearney. 

"  I  have  just  stepped  into  Nina's  room  and  stolen  the  photo  I 
send  you.  I  suppose  the  dress  must  have  been  for  some  fancy  ball ; 
but  she  is  a  hundred  million  times  more  beautiful.  I  don't  know  if 
I  shall  have  the  courage  to  confess  my  theft  to  her. " 


36  LORD  KILGOBBIN 

"Is  that  your  sister,  Dick?"  said  Joe  Atlee,  as  young 
Kearney  withdrew  the  carte  from  the  letter,  and  placed  It 
face  downwards  on  the  breakfast-table. 

*'No,''  replied  he,  bluntly,  and  continued  to  read  on; 
while  the  other,  in  the  spirit  of  that  freedom  that  prevailed 
between  them,  stretched  out  his  hand  and  took  up  the  por- 
trait. 

''Who  is  this?"  cried  he,  after  some  seconds.  ''She's 
an  actress.  That's  something  like  what  the  girl  wears  in 
'  Don  Caesar  de  Bazan.'  To  be  sure,  she  is  Maritana.  She  's 
stunningly  beautiful.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Dick,  that 
there  's  a  girl  like  that  on  your  provincial  boards  ?  " 

''  I  never  said  so,  any  more  than  I  gave  you  leave  to  ex- 
amine the  contents  of  my  letters,"  said  the  other,  haughtily. 

"  Egad,  I  'd  have  smashed  the  seal  any  day  to  have  caught 
a  glimpse  of  such  a  face  as  that.  I  '11  wager  her  eyes  are 
blue-gray.      Will  you  have  a  bet  on  it?  " 

''  When  you  have  done  with  your  raptures,  I  '11  thank  you 
to  hand  the  likeness  to  me." 

"  But  who  is  she?  what  is  she?  where  is  she?  Is  she  the 
Greek?" 

"When  a  fellow  can  help  himself  so  coolly  to  his  informa- 
tion as  you  do,  I  scarcely  think  he  deserves  much  aid  from 
others ;  but,  I  may  tell  you,  she  is  not  Maritana,  nor  a  pro- 
vincial actress,  nor  any  actress  at  all,  but  a  young  lady  of 
good  blood  and  birth,  and  my  own  first  cousin." 

"On  my  oath,  it 's  the  best  thing  I  ever  knew  of  you." 

Kearney  laughed  out  at  this  moment  at  something  in  the 
letter,  and  did  not  hear  the  other's  remark. 

"It  seems,  Master  Joe,  that  the  young  lady  did  not  re- 
ciprocate the  rapturous  delight  you  feel,  at  sight  of  your 
picture.  My  sister  says  —  I  '11  read  you  her  very  words  — 
'  she  does  not  like  the  portrait  of  your  friend  Atlee ;  he  may 
be  clever  and  amusing,  she  says,  but  he  is  undeniably  false.' 
Mind  that,  —  undeniably  false." 

"-  That's  all  the  fault  of  the  artist.  The  stupid  dog  would 
place  me  in  so  strong  a  light  that  I  kept  blinking." 

"  No,  no.     She  reads  you  like  a  book,"  said  the  other. 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven  she  would,  if  she  would  hold  me  like 
one." 


AT  "TRINITY."  37 

*' And  the  nice  way  she  qualifies  your  cleverness,  by  call- 
ing you  amusing." 

"  She  could  certainly  spare  that  reproach  to  her  cousin 
Dick,"  said  he,  laughing;  "but  no  more  of  this  sparring. 
When  do  you  mean  to  take  me  down  to  the  country  with 
you?     The  term  will  be  up  on  Tuesday." 

"  That  will  demand  a  little  consideration  now.  In  the  fall 
of  the  year,  perhaps.  When  the  sun  is  less  powerful,  the 
light  will  be  more  favorable  to  your  features." 

"  My  poor  Dick,  I  cram  you  with  good  advice  every  day ; 
but  one  counsel  I  never  cease  repeating,  '  Never  try,  to  be 
witty.'  A  dull  fellow  only  cuts  his  finger  with  a  joke;  he 
never  catches  it  by  the  handle.  Hand  me  over  that  letter  of 
your  sister's ;  I  like  the  way  she  writes.  All  that  about  the 
pigs  and  the  poultry  is  as  good  as  the  '  Farmer's  Chronicle.'  " 

The  other  made  no  other  reply  than  by  coolly  folding  up 
the  letter  and  placing  it  in  his  pocket;  and  then,  after  a 
pause,  he  said,  — 

"  I  shall  tell  Miss  Kearney  the  favorable  impression  her 
epistolary  powers  have  produced  on  my  very  clever  and 
accomplished  chum,  Mr.  Atlee." 

''Do  so;  and  say,  if  she'd  take  me  for  a  correspondent 
instead  of  you,  she'd  be  'exchanging  with  a  difference.' 
On  my  oath,"  said  he,  seriously,  "  I  believe  a  most  finished 
education  might  be  effected  in  letter-writing.  I'd  engage 
to  take  a  clever  girl  through  a  whole  course  of  Latin  and 
Greek,  and  a  fair  share  of  mathematics  and  logic,  in  a  series 
of  letters,  and  her  replies  would  be  the  fairest  test  of  her 
acquirement."  « 

"  Shall  I  propose  this  to  my  sister?  " 

"Do  so,  or  to  yopr  cousin.  I  suspect  Maritana  would  be 
an  apter  pupil." 

"The  bell  has  stopped.  We  shall  be  late  in  the  hall," 
said  Kearney,  throwing  on  his  gown  hurriedly  and  hastening 
away;  while  Atlee,  taking  some  proof-sheets  from  the 
chimney-piece,  proceeded  to  correct  them,  a  slight  flicker 
of  a  smile  still  lingering  over  his  dark  but  handsome  face. 

Though  such  little  jarring  passages  as  that  we  have 
recorded  were  nothing  uncommon  between  these  two  young 
men,  they  were  very  good  friends  on  the  whole ;  the  very 


38  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

dissimilarity  that  provoked  their  squabbles  saving  them  from 
any  more  serious  rivalry.  In  reality,  no  two  people  could 
be  less  alike :  Kearney  being  a  slow,  plodding,  self-satisfied, 
dull  man,  of  very  ordinary  faculties ;  while  the  other  was  an 
indolent,  discursive,  sharp-witted  fellow,  mastering  what- 
ever he  addressed  himself  to  with  ease,  but  so  enamoured  of 
novelty  that  he  rarely  went  beyond  a  smattering  of  anything. 
He  carried  away  college  honors  apparently  at  will,  and 
might,  many  thought,  have  won  a  fellowship  with  little 
effort;  but  his  passion  was  for  change.  Whatever  bore 
upon  the  rogueries  of  letters,  the  frauds  of  literature,  had  an 
irresistible  charm  for  him;  and  he  once  declared  that  he 
would  almost  rather  have  been  Ireland  than  Shakspeare ;  and 
then  it  was  his  delight  to  write  Greek  versions  of  a  poem 
that  might  attach  the  mark  of  plagiarism  to  Tennyson,  or 
show,  by  a  Scandinavian  lyric,  how  the  laureate  had  been 
poaching  from  the  Northmen.  Now  it  was  a  mock  pastoral 
in  most  ecclesiastical  Latin  that  set  the  whole  Church  in 
arms ;  now  a  mock  despatch  of  Baron  Beust  that  actually 
deceived  the  ''Revue  des  Deux  Mondes"  and  caused  quite 
a  panic  at  the  Tuileries.  He  had  established  such  relations 
with  foreign  journals  that  he  could  at  any  moment  command 
insertion  for  a  paper,  —  now  in  the  "Memorial  Diploma- 
tique," now  in  the  "Golos  "  of  St.  Petersburg,  or  the  "  Allge- 
meine  Zeitung ;  "  while  the  comment,  written  also  by  himself, 
would  appear  in  the  "Kreutz  Zeitung"  or  the  "Times;" 
and  the  mystification  became  such  that  the  shrewdest  and 
keenest  heads  were  constantly  misled,  to  which  side  to 
incline  in  a  controversy  where  all  the  .wires  were  pulled  by 
one  hand.  Many  a  discussion  on  the  authenticity  of  a 
document  or  the  veracity  of  a  conversation  would  take  place 
between  the  two  young  men ;  Kearney  not  having  the  vaguest 
suspicion  that  the  author  of  the  point  in  debate  was  then 
sitting  opposite  to  him,  sometimes  seeming  to  share  the  very 
doubts  and  difficulties  that  were  then  puzzling  himself. 

While  Atlee  knew  Kearney  in  every  fold  and  fibre  of 
his  nature,  Kearney  had  not  the  very  vaguest  conception  of 
him  with  whom  he  sat  every  day  at  meals,  and  communed 
through  almost  every  hour  of  his  life.  He  treated  Joe, 
indeed,  with  a  sort  of   proud   protection,   thinking  him   a 


AT   "TRINITY."  39 

sharp,  clever,  idle  fellow,  who  would  never  come  to  any- 
thing higher  than  a  bookseller's  hack  or  an  ''occasional 
correspondent."  He  liked  his  ready  speech  and  his  fun, 
but  he  would  not  consent  to  see  in  either  evidences  of  any- 
thing beyond  the  amusing  qualities  of  a  very  light  intelli- 
gence. On  the  whole,  he  looked  down  upon  him,  as  very 
properly  the  slow  and  ponderous  people  in  life  do  look  down 
upon  their  more  volatile  brethren,  and  vote  them  triflers. 
Long  may  it  be  so!  There  would  be  more  sunstrokes  in 
the  world  if  it  were  not  that  the  shadows  of  dull  men 
made  such  nice  cool  places  for  the  others  to  walk  in! 


CHAPTER  V. 

HOME    LIFE    AT    THE    CASTLE. 

The  life  of  that  quaint  old  country  house  was  something 
very  strange  and  odd  to  Nina  Kostalergi.  It  was  not 
merely  its  quiet  monotony,  its  unbroken  sameness  of  topics 
as  of  events,  and  its  small  economies,  always  appearing  on 
the  surface ;  but  that  a  young  girl  like  Kate,  full  of  life  and 
spirits,  gay,  handsome,  and  high-hearted,  —  that  she  should 
go  her  mill-round  of  these  tiresome  daily  cares,  listening  to 
the  same  complaints,  remedying  the  same  evils,  meeting  the 
same  difficulties,  and  yet  never  seem  to  resent  an  existence 
I  so  ignoble  and  unworthy !  This  was,  indeed,  scarce 
credible. 

As  for  Nina  herself,  —  like  one  saved  from  shipwreck,  — 
her  first  sense  of  security  was  full  of  gratitude.  It  was  only 
as  this  wore  off  that  she  began  to  see  the  desolation  of  the 
rock  on  which  she  had  clambered.  Not  that  her  former  life 
had  been  rose-tinted.  It  had  been  of  all  things  the  most 
harassing  and  wearying,  —  a  life  of  dreary  necesgitude,  a 
perpetual  struggle  with  debt.  Except  play,  her  father  had 
scarcely  any  resource  for  a  livelihood.  He  affected,  indeed, 
to  give  lessons  in  Italian  and  French  to  young  Englishmen; 
but  he  was  so  fastidious  as  to  the  rank  and  condition  of  his 
pupils,  so  unaccommodating  as  to  his  hours,  and  so  unpunc- 
tual,  that  it  was  evident  that  the  whole  was  a  mere  pretence 
of  industry,  to  avoid  the  reproach  of  being  utterly  dependent 
on  the  play-table ;  besides  this,  in  his  capacity  as  a  teacher 
he  obtained  access  to  houses  and  acceptance  with  families 
where  he  would  have  found  entrance  impossible  under  other 
circumstances. 

He  was  polished  and  good-looking.  All  his  habits  bespoke 
familiarity  with  society;  and  he  knew  to  the  nicest  fraction 


HOME  LIFE  AT  THE  CASTLE.  41 

the  amount  of  intimacy  he  might  venture  on  with  any  one. 
Some  did  not  like  him ;  the  man  of  a  questionable  position, 
the  reduced  gentleman,  has  terrible  prejudices  to  combat. 
He  must  always  be  suspected,  —  Heaven  knows  of  what, 
but  of  some  covert  design  against  the  religion  or  the 
pocket,  or  the  influence  of  those  who  admit  him.  Some 
thought  him  dangerous  because  his  manners  were  insinuat- 
ing, and  his  address  studiously  directed  to  captivate. 
Others  did  not  fancy  his  passion  for  mixing  in  the  world, 
and  frequenting  society  to  which  his  straitened  means 
appeared  to  deny  him  rightful  access;  but  when  he  had 
succeeded  in  introducing  his  daughter  to  the  world,  and 
people  began  to  say,  "See  how  admirably  M.  Kostalergij 
has  brought  up  that  girl !  how  nicely  mannered  she  is,  how  \ 
lady-like,  how  well  bred,  what  a  linguist,  what  a  musician!  " 
a  complete  revulsion  took  place  in  public  opinion,  and  many 
who  had  but  half  trusted,  or  less  than  liked  him  before, 
became  now  his  stanchest  friends  and  adherents,  Nina 
had  been  a  great  success  in  society,  and  she  reaped  the  full 
benefit  of  it.  Sufficiently  well  born  to  be  admitted,  without 
any  special  condescension,  into  good  houses,  she  was  in 
manner  and  style  the  equal  of  any;  and  though  her  dress 
was  ever  of  the  cheapest  and  plainest,  her  fresh  toilette 
was  often  commented  on  with  praise  by  those  who  did  not 
fully  remember  what  added  grace  and  elegance  the  wearer 
had  lent  it. 

From  the  wealthy  nobles  to  whom  her  musical  genius  had 
strongly  recommended  her,  numerous  and  sometimes  costly 
presents  were  sent  in  acknowledgment  of  her  charming  gifts; 
and  these,  as  invariably,  were  converted  into  money  by  her 
father,  who,  after  a  while,  gave  it  to  be  understood  that  the 
recompense  would  be  always  more  welcome  in  that  form. 

Nina,  however,  for  a  long  time  knew  nothing  of  this ;  she 
saw  herself  sought  after  and  flattered  in  society,  selected 
for  peculiar  attention  wherever  she  went,  complimented  on 
her  acquirements,  and  made  much  of  to  an  extent  that  not 
unfrequently  excited  the  envy  and  jealousy  of  girls  much 
more  favorably  placed  by  fortune  than  herself.  If  her  long 
mornings  and  afternoons  were  passed  amidst  solitude  and 
poverty,  vulgar  cares,  and  harassing   importunities,  when 


42  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

night  came  she  emerged  into  the  blaze  of  lighted  lustres  and 
gilded  salons,  to  move  in  an  atmosphere  of  splendor 
and  sweet  sounds,  with  all  that  could  captivate  the  senses 
and  exalt  imagination.  This  twofold  life  of  meanness  and 
magnificence  so  wrought  upon  her  nature  as  to  develop 
almost  two  individualities,  —  the  one  hard,  stern,  realistic, 
even  to  grudgingness ;  the  other  gay,  buoyant,  enthusiastic, 
and  ardent;  and  they  who  only  saw  her  of  an  evening  in  all 
the  exultation  of  her  flattered  beauty,  followed  about  by  a 
train  of  admiring  worshippers,  addressed  in  all  that  exag- 
geration of  language  Italy  sanctions,  pampered  by  caresses, 
and  honored  by  homage  on  every  side,  little  knew  by  what 
dreary  torpor  of  heart  and  mind  that  joyous  ecstasy  they 
witnessed  had  been  preceded,  nor  by  what  a  bound  her 
emotions  had  sprung  from  the  depths  of  brooding  melancholy 
to  this  paroxysm  of  delight;  nor  could  the  worn-out  and 
wearied  followers  of  pleasure  comprehend  the  intense  enjoy- 
ment produced  by  sights  and  sounds  which  in  their  case  no 
fancy  idealized,  no  soaring  imagination  had  lifted  to  the 
heaven  of  bliss. 

Kostalergi  seemed  for  a  while  to  content  himself  with  the 
secret  resources  of  his  daughter's  successes;  but  at  length 
he  launched  out  into  heavy  play  once  more,  and  lost  largely. 
It  was  in  this  strait  that  he  bethought  him  of  negotiating 
with  a  theatrical  manager  for  Nina's  appearance  on  the 
stage.  These  contracts  take  the  precise  form  of  a  sale, 
where  the  victim,  in  consideration  of  being  educated  and 
maintained,  and  paid  a  certain  amount,  is  bound  —  legally 
bound  —  to  devote  her  services  to  a  master  for  a  given  time. 
The  impresario  of  the  Fenice  had  often  heard  from  travellers 
of  that  wonderful  mezzo-soprano  voice  which  was  captivat- 
ing all  Rome,  where  the  beauty  and  grace  of  the  singer  were 
extolled  not  less  loudly.  The  great  skill  of  these  astute  pro- 
viders for  the  world's  pleasure  is  evidenced  in  nothing  more 
remarkably  than  the  instinctive  quickness  with  which  they 
pounce  upon  the  indications  of  dramatic  genius,  and  hasten 
away  —  half  across  the  globe  if  need  be  —  to  secure  it. 
Signor  Lanari  was  not  slow  to  procure  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion to  Kostalergi,  and  very  soon  acquainted  him  with  his 
object. 


HOME  LIFE   AT  THE   CASTLE.  43 

Under  the  pretence  that  he  was  an  old  friend  and  former 
schoolfellow,  Kostalergi  asked  him.  to  share  their  humble 
dinner,  and  there,  in  that  meanly  furnished  room,  and  with 
the  accompaniment  of  a  wretched  and  jangling  instrument, 
Nina  so  astonished  and  charmed  him  by  her  performance, 
that  all  the  habitual  reserve  of  the  cautious  bargainer  gave 
way,  and  he  burst  out  into  exclamations  of  enthusiastic 
delight,  ending  with,  —  "She  is  mine!  she  is  mine!  I  tell 
you,  since  Persiani,  there  has  been  nothing  like  her! " 

Nothing  remained  now  but  to  reveal  the  plan  to  herself; 
and  though  certainly  neither  the  Greek  nor  his  guest  were 
deficient  in  descriptive  power,  or  failed  to  paint  in  glowing 
colors  the  gorgeous  processions  of  triumphs  that  await 
stage  success,  she  listened  with  little  pleasure  to  it  all.  She 
had  already  walked  the  boards  of  what  she  thought  a  higher 
arena.  She  had  tasted  flatteries  unalloyed  with  any  sense 
of  decided  inferiority;  she  had  moved  amongst  dukes  and 
duchesses  with  a  recognized  station,  and  received  their 
compliments  with  ease  and  dignity.  Was  all  this  reality 
of  condition  to  be  exchanged  for  a  mock  splendor  and  a 
feigned  greatness?  was  she  to  be  subjected  to  the  licensed 
stare  and  criticism  and  coarse  comment,  it  may  be,  of  hun- 
dreds she  never  knew,  nor  would  stoop  to  know?  and  was 
the  adulation  she  now  lived  in  to  be  bartered  for  the  vulgar 
applause  of  those  who,  if  dissatisfied,  could  testify  the  feel- 
ing as  openly  and  unsparingly?  She  said  very  little  of 
what  she  felt  in  her  heart;  but  no  sooner  alone  in  her  room 
at  night  than  she  wrote  that  letter  to  her  uncle  entreating 
his  protection. 

It  had  been  arranged  with  Lanari  that  she  should  make 
one  appearance  at  a  small  provincial  theatre  so  soon  as  she 
could  master  any  easy  part;  and  Kostalergi,  having  some 
acquaintance  with  the  manager  at  Orvieto,  hastened  off 
there  to  obtain  his  permission  for  her  appearance.  It  was 
of  this  brief  absence  she  profited  to  fly  from  Rome,  the 
banker  conveying  her  as  far  as  Civita  Vecchia,  whence  she 
sailed  direct  for  Marseilles.  And  now  we  see  her,  as  she 
found  herself  in  that  dreary  old  mansion,  sad,  silent,  and 
neglected,  wondering  whether  the  past  was  all  a  dream,  or  if 
the  unbroken  calm  in  which  she  now  lived  was  not  a  sleep. 


44  LORP  KILGOBBIN. 

Conceding  her  perfect  liberty  to  pass  her  time  how  she 
liked,  they  exacted  from  her  no  appearance  at  meals,  nor 
any  conformity  with  the  ways  of  others,  and  she  never 
came  to  breakfast,  and  only  entered  the  drawing-room  a 
short  time  before  dinner.  Kate,  who  had  counted  on  her 
companionship  and  society,  and  hoped  to  see  her  sharing 
with  her  the  little  cares  and  duties  of  her  life,  and  taking 
interest  in  her  pursuits,  was  sorely  grieved  at  her  estrange- 
ment, but  continued  to  believe  it  would  wear  off  with  time 
and  familiarity  with  the  place.  Kearney  himself,  in  secret, 
resented  the  freedom  with  which  she  disregarded  the  disci- 
pline of  his  house,  and  grumbled  at  times  over  foreign  ways 
and  habits  that  he  had  no  fancy  to  see  under  his  roof. 
When  she  did  appear,  however,  her  winning  manners,  her 
grace,  and  a  certain  half-caressing  coquetry  she  could  prac- 
tise to  perfection,  so  soothed  and  amused  him  that  he  soon 
forgot  any  momentary  displeasure,  and  more  than  once 
gave  up  his  evening  visit  to  the  club  at  Moate  to  listen  to 
her  as  she  sang,  or  hear  her  sketch  off  some  trait  of  that 
Roman  society  in  which  British  pretension  and  eccentricity 
often  figured  so  amusingly. 

Like  a  faithful  son  of  the  Church,  too,  he  never  wearied 
hearing  of  the  Pope  and  of  the  Cardinals,  of  glorious 
ceremonials  of  the  Church,  and  festivals  observed  with  all 
the  pomp  and  state  that  pealing  organs,  and  incense,  and 
gorgeous  dress  could  confer.  The  contrast  between  the 
Isufferance  under  which  his  Church  existed  at  home  and  the 
honors  and  homage  rendered  to  it  abroad,  were  a  fruitful 
stimulant  to  that  disaffection  he  felt  towards  England,  and 
would  not  unfrequently  lead  him  away  to  long  diatribes 
about  penal  laws  and  the  many  disabilities  which  had 
enslaved  Ireland,  and  reduced  himself,  the  descendant  of  a 
princely  race,  to  the  condition  of  a  ruined  gentleman. 

To  Kate  these  complainings  were  ever  distasteful;  she 
had  but  one  philosophy,  which  was  "to  bear  up  well,"  and 
when  not  that,  "as  well  as  you  could."  She  saw  scores  of 
things  around  her  to  be  remedied,  or,  at  least,  bettered,  by 
a  little  exertion,  and  not  one  which  could  be  helped  by  a 
vain  regret.  For  the  loss  of  that  old  barbaric  splendor  and 
profuse  luxury  which  her  father  mourned  over,  she  had  no 


HOME  LIFE  AT  THE  CASTLE.  45 

regrets.  She  knew  that  these  wasteful  and  profligate  livers 
had  done  nothing  for  the  people  either  in  act  or  in  example; 
that  they  were  a  selfish,  worthless,  self-indulgent  race,  caring 
for  nothing  but  their  pleasures,  and  making  all  their  patri-i 
otism  consist  in  a  hate  towards  England. 

These  were  not  Nina's  thoughts.  She  liked  all  these 
stories  of  a  time  of  power  and  might,  when  the  Kearneys 
were  great  chieftains,  and  the  old  castle  the  scene  of 
revelry  and  feasting. 

She  drew  prettily,  and  it  amused  her  to  illustrate  the 
curious  tales  the  old  man  told  her  of  rays  and  forays,  the 
wild  old  life  of  savage  chieftains  and  the  scarce  less  savage 
conquerors.  On  one  of  these  —  she  called  it  "The  Return 
of  O'Caharney  "  —  she  bestowed  such  labor  and  studytEat 
Kef  uncie^  would  sit  for  hours  watching  the  work,  not  know- 
ing if  his  heart  were  more  stirred  by  the  claim  of  his  ances- 
tor's greatness,  or  by  the  marvellous  skill  that  realized  the 
whole  scene  before  him.  The  head  of  the  young  chieftain 
was  to  be  filled  in  when  Dick  came  home.  Meanwhile  great 
persuasions  were  being  used  to  induce  Peter  Gill  to  sit  for 
a  kern  who  had  shared  the  exile  of  his  masters,  but  had 
afterwards  betrayed  them  to  the  English ;  and  whether  Gill 
had  heard  some  dropping  word  of  the  part  he  was  meant  to 
fill,  or  that  his  own  suspicion  had  taken  alarm  from  certain 
directions  the  young  lady  gave  as  to  the  expression  he  was 
to  assume,  certain  is  it  nothing  could  induce  him  to  comply, 
and  go  down  to  posterity  with  the  immortality  of  crime. 

The  little  long-neglected  drawing-room  where  Nina  had 
set  up  her  easel  became  now  the  usual  morning  lounge  of  the 
old  man,  who  loved  to  sit  and  watch  her  as  she  worked, 
and,  what  amused  him  even  more,  listen  while  she  talked. 
It  seemed  to  him  like  a  revival  of  the  past  to  hear  of  the 
world,  —  that  gay  world  of  feasting  and  enjoyment  of  which 
for  so  many  years  he  had  known  nothing ;  and  here  he  was 
back  in  it  again,  and  with  grander  company  and  higher 
names  than  he  ever  remembered.  "  Why  was  not  Kate  like 
her?  "  would  he  mutter  over  and  over  to  himself.  Kate  was; 
a  good  girl,  fine-tempered  and  happy-hearted,  but  she  had 
no  accomplishments,  none  of  those  refinements  of  the  other.j 
If  he  wanted  to  present  her  at  "  the  Castle "  one  of  these 


46  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

days,  he  did  not  know  if  she  would  have  tact  enough  for  the 
ordeal;  but  Nina!  — Nina  was  sure  to  make  an  actual  sen- 
sation, as  much  by  her  grace  and  her  style  as  by  her 
beauty.  Kearney  never  came  into  the  room  where  she  was 
without  being  struck  by  the  elegance  of  her  demeanor,  the 
way  she  would  rise  to  receive  him,  her  step,  her  carriage, 
the  very  disposal  of  her  drapery  as  she  sat;  the  modulated 
tone  of  her  voice,  and  a  sort  of  purring  satisfaction  as  she 
took  his  hand  and  heard  his  praises  of  her,  spread  like  a 
charm  over  him,  so  that  he  never  knew  how  the  time  slipped 
by  as  he  sat  beside  her. 

"Have  you  ever  written  to  your  father  since  you  came 
here?  "  asked  he  one  day  as  they  talked  together. 

"Yes,  sir;  and  yesterday  I  got  a  letter  from  him.  Such 
a  nice  letter,  sir,  —  no  complainings,  no  reproaches  for  my 
running  away;  but  all  sorts  of  good  wishes  for  my  happi- 
ness. He  owns  he  was  sorry  to  have  ever  thought  of  the 
stage  for  me;  but  he  says  this  lawsuit  he  is  engaged  in 
about  his  grandfather's  will  may  last  for  years,  and  that  he 
knew  I  was  so  certain  of  a  great  success,  and  that  a  great 
success  means  more  than  mere  money,  he  fancied  that  in 
my  triumph  he  would  reap  the  recompense  for  his  own  dis- 
asters. He  is  now,  however,  far  happier  that  I  have  found 
a  home,  —  a  real  home,  —  and  says,  '  Tell  my  Lord  I  am 
heartily  ashamed  of  all  my  rudeness  with  regard  to  him, 
and  would  willingly  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  end  of  Europe 
to  ask  his  pardon ; '  and  say  besides  that  '  when  I  shall  be 
restored  to  the  fortune  and  rank  of  my  ancestors, '  —  you 
know,"  added  she,  "he  is  a  prince,  — '  my  first  act  will  be 
to  throw  myself  at  his  feet,  and  beg  to  be  forgiven  by 
him.'  " 

"What  is  the  property?  is  it  land?"  asked  he,  with  the 
half-suspectfulness  of  one  not  fully  assured  of  what  he  was 
listening  to. 

"Yes,  sir;  the  estate  is  in  Delos.  I  have  seen  the  plan 
of  the  grounds  and  gardens  of  the  Palace,  which  are 
princely.  Here,  on  this  seal,"  said  she,  showing  the  enve- 
lope of  her  letter,  "you  can  see  the  arms;  papa  never  omits 
to  use  it,  though  on  his  card  he  is  written  only  '  of  the 
princes,' — a  form  observed  with  us." 


HOME  LIFE  AT  THE   CASTLE.  47 

''  And  what  chance  has  he  of  getting  it  all  back  again  ? ' 

"That  is  more  than  I  can  tell  you;  he  himself  is  some- 
times very  confident,  and  talks  as  if  there  could  not  be  a 
doubt  of  it." 

''Used  your  poor  mother  to  believe  it?"  asked  he,  half 
tremulously. 

''I  can  scarcely  say,  sir;  I  can  barely  remember  her;  but 
I  have  heard  papa  blame  her  for  not  interesting  her  high 
connections  in  England  in  his  suit;  he  often  thought  that  a 
word  to  the  ambassador  at  Athens  would  have  almost 
decided  the  case." 

"High  connections,  indeed!  "  burst  he  forth.  "By  my 
conscience,  they  're  pretty  much  out  at  elbows,  like  himself; 
and  if  we  were  trying  to  recover  our  own  right  to-morrow, 
the  look-out  would  be  bleak  enough !  " 

"Papa  is  not  easily  cast  down,  sir;  he  has  a  very  san- 
guine spirit." 

"Maybe  you  think  it's  what  is  wanting  in  my  case,  eh, 
Nina?  Say  it  out,  girl;  tell  me  I'd  be  the  better  for  a 
little  of  your  father's  hopefulness,  eh?  " 

"You  could  not  change  to  anything  I  could  like  better 
than  what  you  are,"  said  she,  taking  his  hand  and  kissing 
it. 

"Ah,  you're  a  rare  one  to  say  coaxing  things,"  said  he, 
looking  fondly  on  her.  "I  believe  you  'd  be  the  best  advo- 
cate for  either  of  us  if  the  courts  would  let  you  plead 
for  us." 

"I  wish  they  would,  sir,"  said  she,  proudly. 

"What  is  that?  "  cried  he,  suddenly;  "sure  it 's  not  put- 
ting myself  you  are  in  the  picture !  " 

"Of  course  I  am,  sir.  Was  not  the  O'Caharney  your 
ancestor?  Is  it  likely  that  an  old  race  had  not  traits  of 
feature  and  lineament  that  ages  of  descent  could,  not  efface? 
I  'd  swear  that  strong  brow  and  frank  look  must  be  an 
heirloom." 

"Faith,  then,  almost  the  only  one!"  said  he,  sighing. 
"Who  's  making  that  noise  out  there?  "  said  he,  rising  and 
going  to  the  window.  "Oh,  it's  Kate  with  her  dogs.  I 
often  tell  her  she  'd  keep  a  pair  of  ponies  for  less  than 
those  troublesome  brutes  cost  her." 


48  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"They  are  great  company  to  her,  she  says,  and  she  lifes 
so  much  in  the  open  air." 

"I  know  she  does,"  said  he,  dropping  his  head  and 
sitting  like  one  whose  thoughts  had  taken  a  brooding, 
despondent  turn. 

"One  more  sitting  I  must  have,  sir,  for  the  hair.  You 
had  it  beautifully  yesterday ;  it  fell  over  on  one  side  with  a 
most  perfect  light  on  a  large  lock  here.  Will  you  give  me 
half  an  hour  to-morrow,  say  ?  " 

"I  can't  promise  you,  my  dear.  Peter  Gill  has  been 
urging  me  to  go  over  to  Loughrea  for  the  fair ;  and  if  we  go 
we  ought  to  be  there  by  Saturday,  and  have  a  quiet  look  at 
the  stock  before  the  sales  begin." 

"And  are  you  going  to  be  long  away?  "  said  she,  pout- 
ingly,  as  she  leaned  over  the  back  of  his  chair,  and  suffered 
her  curls  to  fall  half  across  his  face. 

,   "I  '11  be  right  glad  to  be  back  again,"  said  he,  pressing 
her  head  down  till  he  could  kiss  her  cheek,  —  "right  glad! " 


CHAPTER  VL 


The  '^Blue  Goat"  in  the  small  town  of  Moate  is  scarcely  a 
model  hostel.  The  entrance-hall  is  too  much  encumbered 
by  tramps  and  beggars  of  various  orders  and  ages,  who  not 
only  resort  there  to  take  their  meals  and  play  at  cards,  but 
to  divide  the  spoils  and  settle  the  accounts  of  their  several 
*' industries,"  and  occasionally  to  clear  off  other  scores 
which  demand  police  interference.  On  the  left  is  the  bar; 
the  right-hand  being  used  as  the  office  of  a  land-agent,  is 
besieged  by  crowds  of  country  people,  in  whom,  if  language 
is  to  be  trusted,  the  grievous  wrongs  of  land-tenure  are  pain- 
fully portrayed, —  nothing  but  complaint,  dogged  determina- 
tion, and  resistance  being  heard  on  every  side.  Behind  the 
bar  is  a  long  low-ceilinged  apartment,  the  parlor  jpar  excel- 
lence^ only  used  by  distinguished  visitors,  and  reserved  on  one 
especial  evening  of  the  week  for  the  meeting  of  the  "  Goats," 
as  the  members  of  a  club  call  themselves ;  the  chief,  indeed 
the  founder,  being  our  friend  Mathew  Kearney,  whose  title 
of  sovereignty  was  "Buck-Goat,"  and  whose  portrait, 
painted  by  a  native  artist  and  presented  by  the  society, 
figured  over  the  mantelpiece.  The  village  Vandyke  would 
seem  to  have  invested  largely  in  carmine,  and  though  far 
from  parsimonious  of  it  on  the  cheeks  and  the  nose  of  his 
sitter,  he  was  driven  to  work  off  some  of  his  superabundant 
stock  on  the  cravat,  and  even  the  hands,  which,  though 
amicably  crossed  in  front  of  the  white-waistcoated  stomach, 
are  fearfully  suggestive  of  some  recent  deed  of  blood.  The 
pleasant  geniality  of  the  countenance  is,  however,  reassuring. 
Nor  —  except  a  decided  squint,  by  which  the  artist  had 
ambitiously  attempted  to  convey  a  humoristic  drollery  to  the 
expression  —  is  there  anything  sinister  in  the  portrait. 

4 


50  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

An  inscription  on  the  frame  annnounces  that  this  picture 
of  their  respected  founder  was  presented,  on  his  fiftieth 
birthday,  "To  Mathew  Kearney,  sixth  Viscount  Kilgob- 
bin;"  various  devices  of  "caprine"  significance,  heads, 
horns,  and  hoofs,  profusely  decorating  the  frame.  If  the 
antiquarian  should  lose  himself  in  researches  for  the  origin 
of  this  society,  it  is  as  well  to  admit  at  once  that  the  land- 
lord's sign  of  the  "Blue  Goat"  gave  the  initiative  to  the 
name,  and  that  the  worthy  associates  derived  nothing  from 
classical  authority,  and  never  assumed  to  be  descendants  of 
fauns  or  satyrs,  but  respectable  shopkeepers  of  Moate,  and 
unexceptional  judges  of  "poteen."  A  large  jug  of  this 
insinuating  liquor  figured  on  the  table,  and  was  called 
"Goat's-milk;  "  and  if  these  humoristic  traits  are  so  care- 
fully enumerated,  it  is  because  they  comprised  all  that  was 
specially  droll  or  quaint  in  these  social  gatherings,  the 
members  of  which  were  a  very  commonplace  set  of  men, 
who  discussed  their  little  local  topics  in  very  ordinary  fash- 
ion, slightly  elevated,  perhaps,  in  self-esteem,  by  thinking 
how  little  the  outer  world  knew  of  their  dulness  and 
dreariness. 

As  the  meetings  were  usually  determined  on  by  the  will  of 
the  president,  who  announced  at  the  hour  of  separation  when 
they  were  to  reassemble,  and  as,  since  his  niece's  arrival, 
Kearney  had  almost  totally  forgotten  his  old  associates,  the 
club-room  ceased  to  be  regarded  as  the  holy  of  holies,  and 
was  occasionally  used  by  the  landlord  for  the  reception  of 
such  visitors  as  he  deemed  worthy  of  peculiar  honor. 

It  was  on  a  very  wet  night  of  that  especially  rainy  month 
in  the  Irish  calendar  —  July  —  that  two  travellers  sat  over  a 
turf-fire  in  this  sacred  chamber,  various  articles  of  their 
attire  being  spread  out  to  dry  before  the  blaze,  the  owners 
of  which  actually  steamed  with  the  effects  of  the  heat  upon 
their  damp  habiliments.  Some  fishing-tackle  and  two  knap- 
sacks, which  lay  in  a  corner,  showed  they  were  pedestrians ; 
and  their  looks,  voice,  and  manner  proclaimed  them  still 
more  unmistakably  to  be  gentlemen. 

One  was  a  tall,  sunburned,  soldier-like  man  of  six  or 
seven  and  thirty,  powerfully  built,  and  with  that  solidity  of 
gesture  and  firmness  of  tread  sometimes  so  marked  with 


^HE   "BLUE   GOAT."  51 


#     *       OF   THE 

(  UNIVERSITY 

strong  meij.  ^  mere  glance  at  him  showed  he  was  a  cold, 
silent,  somewhat  haughty  man,  not  given  to  hasty  resolves 
or  in  any  way  impulsive ;  and  it  is  just  possible  that  a  long 
acquaintance  with  him  would  not  have  revealed  a  great  deal 
more.  He  had  served  in  a  half-dozen  regiments;  and 
although  all  declared  that  Henry  Lockwood  was  an  honor- 
able fellow,  a  good  soldier,  and  thoroughly  "safe,"  —  a  very 
meaning  epithet,  —  there  were  no  very  deep  regrets  when  he 
"exchanged,"  nor  was  there,  perhaps,  one  man  who  felt  he 
had  lost  his  "pal"  by  his  going.  He  was  now  in  the 
Carbineers,  and  serving  as  an  extra  aide-de-camp  to  the 
Viceroy. 

Not  a  little  unlike  him  in  most  respects  was  the  man 
who  sat  opposite  him,  —  a  pale,  finely  featured,  almost 
efifeminate-looking  young  fellow,  with  a  small  line  of  dark 
mustache,  and  a  beard  en  Henri  Quatre,  to  the  effect  of 
which  a  collar  cut  in  Vandyke  fashion  gave  an  especial 
significance.  Cecil  Walpole  was  disposed  to  be  pictorial  in 
his  get-up,  and  the  purple  dye  of  his  knickerbocker  stock- 
ings, the  slouching  plumage  of  his  Tyrol  hat,  and  the  grace- 
ful hang  of  his  jacket,  had  excited  envy  in  quarters  where 
envy  was  fame.  He,  too,  was  on  the  viceregal  staff,  being 
private  secretary  to  his  relative  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  during 
whose  absence  in  England  they  had  undertaken  a  ramble  to 
the  Westmeath  lakes,  not  very  positive  whether  their  object 
was  to  angle  for  trout  or  to  fish  for  that  "knowledge  of 
Ireland  "  so  popularly  sought  after  in  our  day,  and  which 
displays  itself  so  profusely  in  platform  speeches  and  letters 
to"  the  "Times;"  Lockwood,  not  impossibly,  would  have 
said  it  was  "  to  do  a  bit  of  walking  "  he  had  come.  He  had 
gained  eight  pounds  by  that  indolent  Phoenix-Park  life  he 
was  leading,  and  he  had  no  fancy  to  go  back  to  Leicester- 
shire too  heavy  for  his  cattle.  He  was  not  —  few  hunting 
men  are  —  an  ardent  fisherman ;  and  as  for  the  vexed  ques- 
tion of  Irish  politics,  he  did  not  see  why  he  was  to  trouble 
his  head  to  unravel  the  pijzzles  that  were  too  much  for  Mr. 
Gladstone;  not  to  say,  that  he  felt  to  meddle  with  these 
matters  was  like  interfering  with  another  man's  department. 
"I  don't  suspect,"  he  would  say,  "I  should  fancy  John 
Briofht  comins:  down  to  '  stables '  and  dictating  to  me  how 


52  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

my  Irish  horses  should  be  shod,  or  what  was  the  best  bit 
for  a  'borer.'  "  He  saw,  besides,  that  the  game  of  politics 
was  a  game  of  compromises.  Something  was  deemed 
admirable  now  that  had  been  hitherto  almost  execrable ;  and 
that  which  was  utterly  impossible  to-day,  if  done  last  year 
would  have  been  a  triumphant  success,  and  consequently  he 
pronounced  the  whole  thing  an  "imposition  and  a  humbug.'' 
"I  can  understand  a  right  and  a  wrong  as  well  as  any  man," 
he  would  say,  "  but  I  know  nothing  about  things  that  are 
neither  or  both,  according  to  who  's  in  or  who  's  out  of  the 
Cabinet.  Give  me  the  command  of  twelve  thousand  men, 
let  me  divide  them  into  three  flying  columns,  and  if  I  don't 
keep  Ireland  quiet,  draft  me  into  a  West  Indian  regiment, 
that 's  all."  And  as  to  the  idea  of  issuing  special  commis- 
sions, passing  new  Acts  of  Parliament,  or  suspending  old 
ones,  to  do  what  he  or  any  other  intelligent  soldier  could  do 
without  any  knavery  or  any  corruption,  "John  Bright 
might  tell  us,"  but  he  could  n't.  And  here  it  may  be  well  to 
observe  that  it  was  a  favorite  form  of  speech  with  him  to 
refer  to  this  illustrious  public  man  in  this  familiar  manner; 
but  always  to  show  what  a  condition  of  muddle  and  confu- 
sion must  ensue  if  we  followed  the  counsels  that  name 
emblematized;  nor  did  he  know  a  more  cutting  sarcasm  to 
reply  to  an  adversary  than  when  he  had  said,  "  Oh,  John 
Bright  would  agree  with  you,"  or,  "I  don't  think  John 
Bright  could  go  further." 

Of  a  very  different  stamp  was  his  companion.  He  was  a 
young  gentleman  whom  we  cannot  more  easily  characterize 
than  by  calling  him,  in  the  cant  of  the  day,  "of  the  period." 
He  was  essentially  the  most  recent  product  of  the  age  we 
live  in.  Manly  enough  in  some  things,  he  was  fastidious 
in  others  to  the  very  verge  of  effeminacy ;  an  aristocrat  by 
birth  and  by  predilection,  he  made  a  parade  of  democratic 
opinions.  He  affected  a  sort  of  Crichtonism  in  the  variety 
of  his  gifts,  and  as  linguist,  musician,  artist,  poet,  and 
philosopher,  loved  to  display  the  scores  of  things  he  might 
be,  instead  of  that  mild,  very  ordinary  young  gentleman  that 
he  was.  He  had  done  a  little  of  almost  everything;  he  had 
been  in  the  Guards,  in  diplomacy,  in  the  House  for  a  brief 
session,  had  made  an  African  tour,  written  a  pleasant  little 


THE  "BLUE   GOAT."  53 

book  about  the  Nile,  with  the  illustrations  by  his  own  hand. 
Still  he  was  greater  in  promise  than  performance.  There 
was  an  opera  of  his  partly  finished ;  a  five-act  comedy  almost 
ready  for  the  stage ;  a  half-executed  group,  he  had  lef tr  in 
some  studio  in  Rome,  showed  what  he  might  have  done  in 
sculpture.  When  his  distinguished  relative  the  Marquis  of 
Danesbury  recalled  him  from  his  post  as  secretary  of  lega- 
tion in  Italy,  to  join  him  at  his  Irish  seat  of  government, 
the  phrase  in  which  he  invited  him  to  return  is  not  without 
its  significance,  and  we  give  it  as  it  occurred  in  the  con- 
text: ''I  have  no  fancy  for  the  post  they  have  assigned 
me,  nor  is  it  what  I  had  hoped  for.  They  say,  however, 
I  shall  succeed  here.  Hous  verrons.  Meanwhile  I  remem- 
ber your  often  remarking,  '  There  is  a  great  game  to  be 
played  in  Ireland.'  Come  over  at  once,  then,  and  let  me 
have  a  talk  with  you  over  it.  I  shall  manage  the  question 
of  your  leave  by  making  you  private  secretary  for  the 
moment.  We  shall  have  many  difficulties,  but  Ireland 
will  be  the  worst  of  them.  Do  not  delay,  therefore;  for  1 
shall  only  go  over  to  be  sworn  in,  etc.,  and  return  for  the 
third  reading  of  the  Church  Bill,  and  I  should  like  to  see 
you  in  Dublin  (and  leave  you  there)  when  I  go." 

Except  that  they  were  both  members  of  the  household, 
and  English  by  birth,  there  was  scarcely  a  tie  between  these 
very  dissimilar  natures ;  but  somehow  the  accidents  of  daily 
life,  stronger  than  the  traits  of  disposition,  threw  them  into 
intimacy,  and  they  agreed  it  would  be  a  good  thing  "  to  see 
something  of  Ireland ; "  and  with  this  wise  resolve  they  had 
set  out  on  that  half-fishing  excursion,  which,  having  taken 
them  over  the  Westmeath  lakes,  now  was  directing  them  to 
the  Shannon,  but  with  an  infirmity  of  purpose  to  which 
lack  of  sport  and  disastrous  weather  were  contributing 
powerfully  at  the  moment  we  have  presented  them  to  our 
reader. 

To  employ  the  phrase  which  it  is  possible  each  might 
have  used,  they  "liked  each  other  well  enough,"  —  that  is, 
each  found  something  in  the  other  he  "  could  get  on  with ; " 
but  there  was  no  stronger  tie  of  regard  or  friendship  be- 
tween them,  and  each  thought  he  perceived  some  flaw  of 
pretension,  or  affected  wisdom,  or  selfishness,  or  vanity  in 


54  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

the  other;  and  actually  believed  he  amused  himself  by  its 
display.  In  natures,  tastes,  and  dispositions  they  were 
miles  asunder,  and  disagreement  between  them  would  have 
bee'Q  unceasing  on  every  subject,  had  they  not  been  gentle- 
men. It  was  this  alone  —  this  gentleman  element  —  made 
their  companionship  possible,  and,  in  the  long  run,  not 
unpleasant.  So  much  more  has  good  breeding  to  do  in  the 
common  working  of  daily  life  than  the  more  valuable  qual- 
ities of  mind  and  temperament. 

Though  much  younger  than  his  companion,  Walpole  took 
the  lead  in  all  the  arrangements  of  the  journey,  determined 
where  and  how  long  they  should  halt,  and  decided  on  the 
route  next  to  be  taken ;  the  other  showing  a  real  or  affected 
indifference  on  all  these  matters,  and  making  of  his  town- 
bred  apathy  a  very  serviceable  quality  in  the  midst  of  Irish 
barbarism  and  desolation.  On  politics,  too,  —  if  that  be 
the  name  for  such  light  convictions  as  they  entertained,  — 
they  differed;  the  soldier's  ideas  being  formed  on  what  he 
fancied  would  be  the  late  Duke  of  Wellington's  opinion, 
and  consisted  in  what  he  called  "putting  down."  Walpole 
was  a  promising  Whig ;  that  is,  one  who  coquets  with  Rad- 
ical notions,  but  fastidiously  avoids  contact  with  the  mob; 
and  who,  fervently  believing  that  all  popular  concessions 
are  spurious  if  not  stamped  with  Whig  approval,  would  like 
to  treat  the  democratic  leaders  as  forgers  and  knaves. 

If,  then,  there  was  not  much  of  similarity  between  these 
two  men  to  attach  them  to  each  other,  there  was  what  served 
for  a  bond  of  union:  they  belonged  to  the  same  class  in  life, 
and  used  pretty  nigh  the  same  forms  for  their  expression  of 
like  and  dislike ;  and  as  in  traffic  it  contributes  wonderfully 
to  the  facilities  of  business  to  use  the  same  money,  so  in 
the  common  intercourse  of  life  will  the  habit  to  estimate 
things  at  the  same  value  conduce  to  very  easy  relations, 
and  something  almost  like  friendship. 

While  they  sat  over  the  fire  awaiting  their  supper,  each 
had  lighted  a  cigar,  busying  himself  from  time  to  time  in 
endeavoring  to  dry  some  drenched  article  of  dress,  or 
extracting  from  damp  and  dripping  pockets  their  several 
contents. 

"This,  then,"  said  the  younger  man,  — "this  is  the  pic- 


THE   "BLUE   GOAT."  55 

turesque  Ireland  our  tourist  writers  tell  us  of;  and  the  land 
where  the  '  Times  '  says  the  traveller  will  find  more  to  in- 
terest him  than  in  the  Tyrol  or  the  Oberland." 

''What  about  the  climate?  "  said  the  other,  in  a  deep  bass 
voice. 

"Mild  and  moist,  I  believe,  are  the  epithets;  that  is,  it 
makes  you  damp  and  it  keeps  you  so." 

"And  the  inns?  " 

"The  inns,  it  is  admitted,  might  be  better;  but  the  trav- 
eller is  admonished  against  fastidiousness,  and  told  that  the 
prompt  spirit  of  pbligeance,  the  genial  cordiality  he  will 
meet  with  are  more  than  enough  to  repay  him  for  the  want 
of  more  polished  habits  and  mere  details  of  comfort  and 
convenience." 

"Rotten  humbug!  /  don't  want  cordiality  from  my 
innkeeper." 

"I  should  think  not!  As,  for  instance,  a  bit  of  carpet 
in  this  room  would  be  worth  more  than  all  the  courtesy  that 
showed  us  in." 

"What  was  that  lake  called,  — the  first  place  I  mean?  " 
asked  Lockwood. 

"Lough  Brin.  I  should  n't  say  but  with  better  weather  it 
might  be  pretty." 

A  half  grunt  of  dissent  was  all  the  reply,  and  Walpole 
went  on,  — • 

"It 's  no  use  painting  a  landscape  when  it  is  to  be 
smudged  all  over  with  Indian  ink.  There  are  no  tints  in 
mountains  swathed  in  mist,  no  color  in  trees  swamped  with 
moisture;  everything  seems  so  imbued  with  damp,  one 
fancies  it  would  take  two  years  in  the  tropics  to  dry 
Ireland." 

"  I  asked  that  fellow  who  showed  us  the  way  here,  why  he 
did  n't  pitch  off  those  wet  rags  he  wore  and  walk  away  in 
all  the  dignity  of  nakedness.'* 

A  large  dish  of  rashers  and  eggs,  and  a  mess  of  Irish 
stew,  which  the  landlord  now  placed  on  the  table,  with  a 
foaming  jug  of  malt,  seemed  to  rally  them  out  of  their  ill- 
temper;  and  for  some  time  they  talked  away  in  a  more 
cheerful  tone. 

"Better  than  I  hoped  for,"  said  Walpole. 


56  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

''Fair!" 

"And  that  ale,  too,  — 1  suppose  it  is  called  ale,  —  is  very 
tolerable." 

"It 's  downright  good.  Let  us  have  some  more  of  it." 
And  he  shouted,  "Master!  "  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  "More 
of  this,"  said  Lockwood,  touching  the  measure.  "Beer  or 
ale;  which  is  it?" 

"Castle  Bellingham,  sir,"  replied  the  landlord;  "beats  all 
the  Bass  and  Allsopp  that  ever  was  brewed." 

"You  think  so,  eh?" 

"I  'm  sure  of  it,  sir.  The  club  that  sits  here  had  a  debate 
on  it  one  night,  and  put  it  to  the  vote;  and  there  wasn't 
one  man  for  the  English  liquor.  My  Lord  there,"  said  he, 
pointing  to  the  portrait,  "sent  an  account  of  it  all  to 
Saunders'  newspaper." 

While  he  left  the  room  to  fetch  the  ale,  the  travellers  both 
fixed  their  eyes  on  the  picture;  and  Walpole,  rising,  read 
out  the  inscription, — "Viscount  Kilgobbin." 

"There  's  no  such  title,"  said  the  other,  bluntly. 

"Lord  Kilgobbin  —  Kilgobbin?  Where  did  I  heai;  that 
name  before?" 

"In  a  dream,  perhaps." 

"No,  no.  I  have  heard  it,  if  I  could  only  remember 
where  and  how!  I  say,  landlord,  where  does  his  Lordship 
live?  "  and  he  pointed  to  the  portrait. 

"Beyond,  at  the  castle,  sir.  You  can  see  it  from  the 
door  without  when  the  weather  's  fine." 

"  That  must  mean  on  a  very  rare  occasion !  "  said  Lock- 
wood,  gravely. 

"No,  indeed,  sir.  It  did  n't  begin  to  rain  on  Tuesday 
last  till  after  three  o'clock." 

"Magnificent  climate!  "  exclaimed  Walpole,  enthusias- 
tically. 

"It  is  indeed,  sir.  Glory  be  to  God!  "  said  the  landlord, 
with  an  honest  gravity  that  set  them  both  off  laughing. 

"How  about  this  club,  —  does  it  meet  often?  " 

"It  used,  sir,  to  meet  every  Thursday  evening,  and  my 
Lord  never  missed  a  night;  but  quite  lately  he  took  it  in 
his  head  not  to  come  out  in  the  evenings.  Some  say  it  was 
the  rheumatism,  and  more  says  it 's  the  unsettled  state  of 
the   country;   though,    the   Lord    be   praised    for   it,  there 


THE   "BLUE   GOAT."  57 

was  n't  a  man  fired  at  in  the  neighborhood  since  Easter, 
and  he  was  a  peeler." 

"  One  of  the  constabulary?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  a  dirty,  mean  chap,  that  was  looking  after  a 
poor  boy  that  set  fire  to  Mr.  Hagin's  ricks,  and  that  was  over 
a  year  ago." 

"And  naturally  forgotten  by  this  time?" 

"  By  coorse  it  was  forgotten.  Ould  Mat  Hagin  got  a  pre- 
sentment for  the  damage  out  of  the  grand  jury,  and  nobody 
was  the  worse  for  it  at  all." 

"  And  so  the  club  is  smashed,  eh?  " 

"As  good  as  smashed,  sir;  for  whenever  any  of  them 
comes  now  of  an  evening,  he  just  goes  into  the  bar  and 
takes  his  glass  there." 

He  sighed  heavily  as  he  said  this,  and  seemed  overcome 
with  sadness. 

"I'm  trying  to  remember  why  the  name  is  so  familiar  to 
me.  I  know  I  have  heard  of  Lord  Kilgobbin  before,"  said 
Walpole. 

"  May  be  so,"  said  the  landlord,  respectfully.  "  You  may 
have  read  in  books  how  it  was  at  Kilgobbin  Castle,  King 
James  came  to  stop  after  the  Boyne ;  that  he  held  a  '  coort ' 
there  in  the  big  drawing-room,  —  they  call  it  the  '  throne- 
room  '  ever  since,  —  and  slept  two  nights  at  the  castle 
afterwards  ?  " 

"  That's  something  to  see,  Walpole,"  said  Lockwood. 

"  So  it  is.  How  is  that  to  be  managed,  landlord?  Does 
his  Lordship  permit  strangers  to  visit  the  castle?" 

"  Nothing  easier  than  that,  sir,"  said  the  host,  who  gladly 
embraced  a  project  that  should  detain  his  guests  at  the 
inn.  "  My  Lord  went  through  the  town  this  morning,  on 
his  way  to  Loughrea  fair;  but  the  young  ladies  is  at 
home ;  and  you  've  only  to  send  over  a  message,  and  say 
you  'd  like  to  see  the  place,  and  they  '11  be  proud  to  show 
it  to  you." 

"  Let  US  send  our  cards,  with  a  line  in  pencil,"  said  Wal- 
pole, in  a  whisper  to  his  friend. 

"  And  there  are  young  ladies  there?  "  asked  Lockwood. 

"Two  born  beauties;  it's  hard  to  say  which  is  hand- 
somest," replied  the  host,  overjoyed  at  the  attraction  his 
neighborhood  possessed. 


58  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  I  suppose  that  will  do?  "  said  Walpole,  showing  what  he 
had  written  on  his  card. 

''Yes,  perfectly." 

"Despatch  this  at  once.  I  mean  early  to-morrow ;  and 
let  your  messenger  ask  if  there  be  an  answer.  How  far  is 
it  off?" 

"A  little  over  twelve  miles,  sir;  but  I've  a  mare  in  the 
stable  will '  rowle '  ye  over  in  an  hour  and  a  quarter." 

"All  right.  We'll  settle  on  everything  after  breakfast 
to-morrow."  And  the  landlord  withdrew,  leaving  them  once 
more  alone. 

"This  means,"  said  Lockwood,  drearily,  "we  shall  have 
to  pass  a  day  in  this  wretched  place." 

"  It  will  take  a  day  to  dry  our  wet  clothes ;  and,  all  things 
considered,  one  might  be  worse  off  than  here.  Besides,  I 
shall  want  to  look  over  my  notes.  I  have  done  next  to 
nothing,  up  to  this  time,  about  the  Land  Question." 

"  I  thought  that  the  old  fellow  with  the  cow,  the  fellow  I 
gave  a  cigar  to,  had  made  you  up  in  your  tenant-right 
affair,"  said  Lockwood. 

' '  He  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  very  valuable  information  ; 
he  exposed  some  of  the  evils  of  tenancy  at  will  as  ably  as  I 
ever  heard  them  treated,  but  he  was  occasionally  hard  on 
the  landlord." 

' '  I  suppose  one  word  of  truth  never  came  out  of  his 
mouth  1  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  real  knowledge  of  Ireland  is  not  to  be 
acquired  from  newspapers ;  a  man  must  see  Ireland  for  him- 
self, —  see  it,"  repeated  he,  with  strong  emphasis. 

"And  then?" 

"And  then,  if  he  be  a  capable  man,  a  reflecting  man,  a 
man  in  whom  the  perceptive  power  is  joined  to  the  social 
faculty  —  " 

"  Look  here,  Cecil :  one  hearer  won't  make  a  house  :  don't 
try  it  on  speechifying  to  me.  It 's  all  humbug  coming  over 
to  look  at  Ireland.  You  may  pick  up  a  little  brogue,  but  it 's 
all  you  '11  pick  up  for  your  journey."  After  this,  for  him, 
unusually  long  speech,  he  finished  his  glass,  lighted  his  bed- 
room candle,  and  nodding  a  good-night,  strolled  away. 

"I'd  give  a  crown  to  know  where  I  heard  of  you  before  !  " 
said  Walpole,  as  he  stared  up  at  the  portrait. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE    COUSINS. 


*'Only  think  of  it!"  cried  Kate  to  her  cousin,  as  she 
received  Walpole's  note.  ''Can  you  fancy,  Nina,  anyone 
having  the  curiosity  to  imagine  this  old  house  worth  a 
visit?  Here  is  a  polite  request  from  two  tourists  to  be 
allowed  to  see  the  —  what  is  it  ?  —  the  interesting  interior 
of  Kilgobbin  Castle  !  " 

"Which  I  hope  and  trust  you  will  refuse.  The  people 
who  are  so  eager  for  these  things  are  invariably  tiresome 
old  bores,  grubbing  for  antiquities,  or  intently  bent  on 
adding  a  chapter  to  their  story  of  travel.  You  '11  say  no, 
dearest,  won't  you?" 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish  it.  I  am  not  acquainted  with 
Captain  Lockwood,  nor  his  friend  Mr.  Cecil  Walpole." 

' '  Did  you  say  Cecil  Walpole  ?  "  cried  the  other,  almost 
snatching  the  card  from  her  fingers.  "  Of  all  the  strange 
chances  in  life  —  this  is  the  very  strangest !  What  could 
have  brought  Cecil  Walpole  here?" 

"You  know  him  then?" 

"I  should  think  I  do!  What  duets  have  we  not  sung 
together?  What  waltzes  have  we  not  had?  What  rides 
over  the  Campagna  ?  Oh  dear !  how  I  should  like  to  talk 
over  these  old  times  again !  Pray  tell  him  he  may  come, 
Kate,  or  let  me  do  it." 

"  And  papa  away  !  " 

"It  is  the  castle,  dearest,  he  wants  to  see,  not  papa! 
You  don't  know  what  manner  of  creature  this  is!  He  is 
one  of  your  refined  and  supremely  cultivated  English,  —  mad 
about  archaeology  and  mediaeval  trumpery.  He  '11  know 
all  your  ancestors  intended  by  every  insane  piece  of  archi- 
tecture, and  every  puzzling  detail  of  this  old  house;    and 


60  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

he  '11  light  up  every  corner  of  it  with  some  gleam  of  bright 
tradition." 

"  I  thought  these  sort  of  people  were  bores,  dear?  "  said 
Kate,  with  a  sly  malice  in  her  look. 

' '  Of  course  not.  When  they  are  well-bred  and  well- 
mannered  —  " 

' '  And  perhaps  well-looking  ?  "  chimed  in  Kate. 

'*  Yes,  and  so  he  is,  —  a  little  of  the  petit  maitre  perhaps. 
He 's  much  of  that  school  which  fiction-writers  describe 
as  having  '  finely  pencilled  eyebrows  and  chins  of  almost 
womanlike  roundness ;  '  but  people  in  Rome  always  called 
him  handsome,  —  that  is,  if  he  be  my  Cecil  Walpole." 

''  Well,  then,  will  you  tell  your  Cecil  Walpole,  in  such 
polite  terms  as  you  know  how  to  coin,  that  there  is  really 
nothing  of  the  very  slightest  pretension  to  interest  in  this 
old  place ;  that  we  should  be  ashamed  at  having  lent  our- 
selves to  the  delusion  that  might  have  led  him  here ;  and 
lastly,  that  the  owner  is  from  home  ?  " 

"What!  and  is  this  the  Irish  hospitality  I  have  heard 
so  much  of,  —  the  cordial  welcome  the  stranger  may  reckon 
on  as  a  certainty,  and  make  all  his  plans  with  the  full 
confidence  of  meeting?" 

"There  is  such  a  thing  as  discretion,  also,  to  be  remem- 
bered, Nina,"  said  Kate,  gravely. 

"And  then,  there's  the  room  where  the  king  slept,  and 
the  chair  that  —  no,  not  Oliver  Cromwell,  but  somebody 
else  sat  in  at  supper,  and  there  's  the  great  patch  painted 
on  the  floor  where  your  ancestor  knelt  to  be  knighted." 

"  He  was  created  a  viscount,  not  a  knight!  "  said  Kate, 
blushing.     "  And  there  is  a  difference,  I  assure  you." 

"  So  there  is,  dearest,  and  even  my  foreign  ignorance 
should  know  that  much,  and  you  have  the  parchment  that 
attests  it,  —  a  most  curious  document,  that  Walpole  would 
be  delighted  to  see.  I  almost  fancy  him  examining  the 
curious  old  seal  with  his  microscope,  and  hear  him  unfold- 
ing all  sorts  of  details  one  never  so  much  as  suspected." 

"Papa  might  not  like  it," said  Kate,  bridling  up.  "  Even 
were  he  at  home,  I  am  far  from  certain  he  would  receive 
these  gentlemen.  It  is  little  more  than  a  year  ago  there 
came   here   a   certain   book-writing   tourist,   and    presented 


THE   COUSINS.  61 

himself  without  introduction.  We  received  him  hospitably, 
and  he  stayed  part  of  a  week  here.  He  was  fond  of  an- 
tiquarianism,  but  more  eager  still  about  the  condition  of 
the  people,  —  what  kind  of  husbandry  they  practised,  what 
wages  they  had,  and  what  food.  Papa  took  him  over  the 
whole  estate,  and  answered  all  his  questions  freely  and 
openly.  And  this  man  made  a  chapter  of  his  book  upon 
us,  and  headed  it  '  Rack-renting  and  riotous  living,'  distort- 
ing all  he  heard  and  sneering  at  all  he  saw." 

"These  are  gentlemen,  dearest  Kate,"  said  Nina,  hold- 
ing out  the  card.  "  Come  now,  do  tell  me  that  I  may  say 
you  will  be  happy  to  see  them?" 

*' If  you  must  have  it  so  —  if  you  really  insist  —  " 

"  I  do  !  I  do  !  "  cried  she,  half  wildly.  "  I  should  go  dis- 
tracted if  you  denied  me.  Oh,  Kate !  I  must  own  it.  It 
will  out.  I  do  cling  devotedly  —  terribly  to  that  old  life 
of  the  past.  I  am  very  happy  here,  and  you  are  all  good 
and  kind  and  loving  to  me ;  but  that  wayward  haphazard 
existence,  with  all  its  trials  and  miseries,  had  got  little 
glimpses  of  such  bliss  at  times  that  rose  to  actual  ecstasy." 

"  I  was  afraid  of  this,"  said  Kate,  in  a  low  but  firm 
voice.  "  I  thought  what  a  change  it  would  be  for  you 
from  that  life  of  brightness  and  festivity  to  this  existence 
of  dull  and  unbroken  dreariness." 

"  No,  no,  no!  Don't  say  that!  Do  not  fancy  that  I  am 
not  happier  than  I  ever  was  or  ever  believed  I  could  be.  It 
was  the  castle-building  of  that  time  that  I  was  regretting. 
I  imagined  so  many  things,  I  invented  such  situations,  such 
incidents,  which,  with  this  sad-colored  landscape  here  and 
that  leaden  sky,  I  have  no  force  to  conjure  up.  It  is  as 
though  the  atmosphere  is  too  weighty  for  fancy  to  mount  in 
it.  You,  my  dearest  Kate,"  said  she,  drawing  her  arm  round 
her,  and  pressing  her  towards  her,  "  do  not  know  these 
things,  nor  need  ever  know  them.  Your  life  is  assured  and 
safe.  You  cannot,  indeed,  be  secure  from  the  passing  acci- 
dents of  life,  but  they  will  meet  you  in  a  spirit  able  to  con- 
front them.  As  for  me,  I  was  always  gambling  for  existence, 
and  gambling  without  means  to  pay  my  losses  if  Fortune 
should  turn  against  me.     Do  you  understand  me,  child?" 

"•  Only  in  part,  if  even  that,"  said  she,  slowly. 


62  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  Let  us  keep  this  theme,  then,  for  another  time.  Now 
for  ces  messieurs.     I  am  to  invite  them  ?  " 

"  If  there  was  time  to  ask  Miss  O'Shea  to  come  over  —  " 

"  Do  you  not  fancy,  Kate,  that  in  your  father's  house, 
surrounded  with  your  father's  servants,  you  are  sufficiently 
the  mistress  to  do  without  a  chaperone?  Only  preserve 
that  grand  austere  look  you  have  listened  to  me  with  these 
last  ten  minutes,  and  I  should  like  to  see  the  youthful  auda- 
city that  could  brave  it.  There,  I  shall  go  and  write  my 
note.  You  shall  see  how  discreetly  and  properly  I  shall 
word  it." 

Kate  walked  thoughtfully  towards  a  window  and  looked 
out,  while  Nina  skipped  gayly  down  the  room,  and  opened 
her  writing-desk,  humming  an  opera  air  as  she  wrote,  — 

•'KiLGOBBiN  Castle. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Walpole,  —  I  can  scarcely  tell  you  the  pleasure 
I  feel  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  a  dear  friend,  or  a  friend  from  dear 
Italy,  whichever  be  the  most  proper  to  say.  My  uncle  is  from  home, 
and  will  not  return  till  the  day  after  to-morrow  at  dinner ;  but  my 
cousin,  Miss  Kearney,  charges  me  to  say  how  happy  she  will  be  to 
receive  you  and  your  fellow-traveller  at  luncheon  to-morrow.  Pray 
not  to  trouble  yourself  with  an  answer,  but  believe  me  very  sincerely 
yours, 

"Nina  Kostalergi." 

''  I  was  right  in  saying  luncheon,  Kate,  and  not  dinner,  — 
was  I  not?     It  is  less  formal." 

"I  suppose  so;  that  is,  if  it  was  right  to  invite  them  at 
all,  of  which  I  have  very  great  misgivings." 

"I  wonder  what  brought  Cecil  Walpole  down  here?"  said 
Nina,  glad  to  turn  the  discussion  into  another  channel. 
"  Could  he  have  heard  that  I  was  here?  Probably  not.  It 
was  a  mere  chance,  I  suppose.  Strange  things  these  same 
chances  are,  that  do  so  much  more  in  our  lives  than  all  our 
plottings !  " 

"Tell  me  something  of  your  friend,  perhaps  I  ought  to 
say  your  admirer,  Nina  !  " 

"  Yes,  very  much  my  admirer;  not  seriously,  you  know, 
but  in  that  charming  sort  of  adoration  we  cultivate  abroad, 
that  means  anything  or  nothing.     He  was  not  titled,  and  I 


THE   COUSINS.  63 

am  afraid  he  was  not  rich,  and  this  last  misfortune  used  to 
make  his  attention  to  me  somewhat  painful —  to  him  I  mean, 
not  to  me ;  for,  of  course,  as  to  anything  serious,  I  looked 
much  higher  than  a  poor  Secretary  of  Legation." 

''  Did  you?  "  asked  Kate,  with  an  air  of  quiet  simplicity. 

"  I  should  hope  I  did,"  said  she,  haughtily ;  and  she  threw 
a  glance  at  herself  in  a  large  mirror,  and  smiled  proudly  at 
the  bright  image  that  confronted  her.  ''  Yes,  darling,  say  it 
out,"  cried  she,  turning  to  Kate.  "  Your  eyes  have  uttered 
the  words  already." 

''  What  words?" 

''  Something  about  insufferable  vanity  and  conceit,  and 
I  own  to  both !  Oh,  why  is  it  that  my  high  spirits  have 
so  run  away  with  me  this  morning,  that  I  have  forgotten 
all  reserve  and  all  shame?  But  the  truth  is,  I  feel  half 
wild  with  joy,  and  joy  in  my  nature  is  another  name  for 
recklessness." 

''I  sincerely  hope  not,"  said  Kate,  gra.Ye\j.  "At  any 
rate,  you  give  me  another  reason  for  wishing  to  have  Miss 
O'Shea  here." 

"I  will  not  have  her,  —  no,  not  for  worlds,  Kate,  that 
odious  old  woman,  with  her  stiff  and  antiquated  propriety. 
Cecil  would  quiz  her." 

"  I  am  very  certain  he  would  not;  at  least,  if  he  be  such 
a  perfect  gentleman  as  you  tell  me." 

"  Ah,  but  you  'd  never  know  he  did  it.  The  fine  tact  of 
these  consummate  men  of  the  world  derives  a  humoristic 
enjoyment  in  eccentricity  of  character,  which  never  shows 
itself  in  any  outward  sign  beyond  the  heightened  pleasure 
they  feel  in  what  other  folks  might  call  dulness  or  mere 
oddity." 

"  I  would  not  suffer  an  old  friend  to  be  made  the  subject 
of  even  such  latent  amusement." 

"  Nor  her  nephew,  either,  perhaps?  " 

"  The  nephew  could  take  care  of  himself,  Nina ;  but  I  am 
not  aware  that  he  will  be  called  on  to  do  so.  He  is  not  in 
Ireland,  I  believe." 

*'  He  was  to  arrive  this  week.     You  told  me  so." 

"Perhaps  he  did;  I  had  forgotten  it!  "  and  Kate  flushed 
as  she  spoke,  though  whether  from  shame  or  anger  it  was 


64  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

not  easy  to  say.  As  though  impatient  with  herself  at  any 
display  of  temper,  she  added  hurriedly  :  "  Was  it  not  a  piece 
of  good  fortune,  Nina?  Papa  has  left  us  the  key  of  the 
cellar,  —  a  thing  he  never  did  before,  and  only  now  because 
you  were  here  !  " 

"  What  an  honored  guest  I  am  !  "  said  the  other,  smiling. 

"That  you  are!  I  don't  believe  papa  has  gone  once  to 
the  club  since  you  came  here." 

"Now,  if  I  were  to  own  that  I  was  vain  of  this,  you'd 
rebuke  me,  would  not  you  ?  " 

"  Our  love  could  scarcely  prompt  to  vanity." 

"  How  shall  I  ever  learn  to  be  humble  enough  in  a  family 
of  such  humility?"  said  Nina,  pettishly.  Then  quickly 
correcting  herself,  she  said,  "  I  '11  go  and  despatch  my  note, 
and  then  I  '11  come  back  and  ask  your  pardon  for  all  my 
wilfulness,  and  tell  you  how  much  I  thank  you  for  all  your 
goodness  to  me." 

And  as  she  spoke  she  bent  down  and  kissed  Kate's  hand 
twice  or  thrice  fervently. 

"  Oh,  dearest  Nina,  not  this,  —  not  this  !  "  said  Kate,  try- 
ing to  clasp  her  in  her  arms ;  but  the  other  had  slipped  from 
her  grasp,  and  was  gone. 

"Strange  girl,"  muttered  Kate,  looking  after  her.  "I 
wonder  shall  I  ever  understand  you,  or  shall  we  ever  under- 
stand each  other?" 


CHAFrER  VIII. 

SHOWING    HOW    FRIENDS    MAY    DIFFER. 

The  morning  broke  drearily  for  our  friends,  the  two  pedes- 
trians, at  the  "  Blue  Goat."  A  day  of  dull  aspect  and  soft 
rain  in  midsummer  has  the  added  depression  that  it  seems 
an  anachronism.  One  is  in  a  measure  prepared  for  being 
weather-bound  in  winter.  You  accept  imprisonment  as  the 
natural  fortune  of  the  season,  or  you  brave  the  elements 
prepared  to  let  them  do  their  worst,  while,  if  confined  to 
house,  you  have  that  solace  of  snugness,  that  comfortable 
chimney-corner  which  somehow  realizes  an  immense  amount 
of  the  joys  we  concentrate  in  the  word  "Home."  It  is  in 
the  want  of  this  rallying-point,  this  little  domestic  altar, 
where  all  gather  together  in  a  common  worship,  that  lies  the 
dreary  discomfort  of  being  weather-bound  in  summer,  and 
when  the  prison  is  some  small  village  inn,  noisy,  disorderly, 
and  dirty,  the  misery  is  complete. 

"  Grand  old  pig  that!  "  said  Lockwood,  as  he  gazed  out 
upon  the  filthy  yard,  where  a  fat  old  sow  contemplated  the 
weather  from  the  threshold  of  her  dwelling. 

"I  wish  she'd  come  out.  I  want  to  make  a  sketch  of 
her,"  said  the  other. 

"  Even  one's  tobacco  grows  too  damp  to  smoke  in  this 
blessed  climate,"  said  Lockwood,  as  he  pitched  his  cigar 
away.  ' '  Heigh-ho  !  We  're  too  late  for  the  train  to  town, 
I  see." 

"  You  'd  not  go  back,  would  you?  " 

"  I  should  think  I  would.  That  old  den  in  the  upper 
Castle-yard  is  not  very  cheery  or  very  nice,  but  there  is  a 
chair  to  sit  on,  and  a  review  and  a  newspaper  to  read.  A 
tour  in  a  country  and  with  a  climate  like  this  is  a  mistake." 

"  I  suspect  it  is,"  said  Walpole,  drearily. 

5 


66  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  see,  no  one  to  talk  to,  nowhere  to 
Btop  at !  " 

''AH  true,"  muttered  the  other.  "By  the  way,  haven't 
we  some  plan  or  project  for  to-day,  —  something  about  an 
old  castle  or  an  abbey  to  see?" 

"  Yes,  and  the  waiter  brought  me  a  letter.  I  think  it  was 
addressed  to  you,  and  I  left  it  on  my  dressing-table.  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  it.     I'll  go  and  fetch  it." 

Short  as  his  absence  was,  it  gave  Walpole  time  enough  to 
recur  to  his  late  judgment  on  his  tour,  and  once  more  call  it 
a  "mistake,  a  complete  mistake."  The  Ireland  of  wits, 
dramatists,  and  romance-writers  was  a  conventional  thing, 
and  bore  no  resemblance  whatsoever  to  the  rain-soaked, 
dreary-looking,  depressed  reality.  "These  Irish,  they  are 
odd  without  being  droll,  just  as  they  are  poor  without  being 
picturesque;  but  of  all  the  delusions  we  nourish  about 
them,  there  is  not  one  so  thoroughly  absurd  as  to  call  them 
dangerous." 

He  had  just  arrived  at  this  mature  opinion,  when  his 
friend  re-entered  and  handed  him  the  note. 

"  Here  is  a  piece  of  luck.  Per  Bacco ! "  cried  Walpole,  as 
he  ran  over  the  lines.  "  This  beats  all  I  could  have  hoped 
for.  Listen  to  this  :  '  Dear  Mr.  Walpole,  —  I  cannot  tell  you 
the  delight  I  feel  in  the  prospect  of  seeing  a  dear  friend,  or  a 
friend  from  dear  Italy,  which  is  it? '  " 

"Who  writes  this?" 

"A  certain  Mademoiselle  Kostalergi,  whom  I  knew  at 
Rome ;  one  of  the  prettiest,  cleverest,  and  nicest  girls  I  ever 
met  in  my  life." 

"  Not  the  daughter  of  that  precious  Count  Kostalergi  you 
have  told  me  such  stories  of?  " 

"The  same,  but  most  unlike  him  in  every  way.  She  is 
here,  apparently  with  an  uncle,  who  is  now  from  home,  and 
she  and  her  cousin  invite  us  to  luncheon  to-day." 

"  What  a  lark  !  "  said  the  other,  dryly. 

"  We  '11  go,  of  course  ?  " 

"  In  weather  like  this?  " 

"  Why  not?  Shall  we  be  better  off  staying  here?  I  now 
begin  to  remember  how  the  name  of  this  place  was  so  familiar 
to  me.     She  was  always  asking  me  if  I  knew  or  heard  of  her 


SHOWING  HOW  FRIENDS  MAY  DIFFER.  67 

mother's  brother,  the  Lord  Kilgobbin,  and,  to  tell  truth,  I 
fancied  some  one  had  been  hoaxing  her  with  the  name, 
and  never  believed  that  there  was  even  a  place  with  such  a 
designation." 

"  Kilgobbin  does  not  sound  like  a  lordly  title.  How  about 
Mademoiselle  —  what  is  the  name?  " 

"  Kostalergi;   they  call  themselves  princes." 

''  With  all  my  heart.  I  was  only  going  to  say,  as  you  've 
got  a  sort  of  knack  of  entanglement  —  is  there,  or  has  there 
been,  anything  of  that  sort  here?  " 

"  Flirtation  —  a  little  of  what  is  called  '  spooning'  —  but 
no  more.     But  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  First  of  all,  you  are  an  engaged  man." 

"All  true,  and  I  mean  to  keep  my  engagement.  I  can't 
marry,  however,  till  I  get  a  mission,  or  something  at  home 
as  good  as  a  mission.  Lady  Maude  knows  that ;  her  friends 
know  it,  but  none  of  us  imagine  that  we  are  to  be  miserable 
in  the  mean  time." 

"I'm  not  talking  of  misery.  I'd  only  say,  don't  get 
yourself  into  any  mess.  These  foreign  girls  are  very  wide 
awake." 

"  Don't  believe  that,  Harry ;  one  of  our  home-bred  damsels 
would  give  them  a  distance  and  beat  them  in  the  race  for  a 
husband.  It's  only  in  England  girls  are  trained  to  angle 
for  marriage,  take  my  word  for  it." 

"Be  it  so, — I  only  warn  you  that  if  you  get  into  any 
scrape  I  '11  accept  none  of  the  consequences.  Lord  Danes- 
bury  is  ready  enough  to  say  that,  because  I  am  some  ten 
years  older  than  you,  I  should  have  kept  you  out  of  mis- 
chief. I  never  contracted  for  such  a  bear-leadership; 
though  I  certainly  told  Lady  Maude  I  'd  turn  Queen's 
evidence  against  you  if  you  became  a  traitor." 

"  I  wonder  you  never  told  me  that  before,"  said  Walpole, 
with  some  irritation  of  manner. 

"I  only  wonder  that  I  told  it  now!"  replied  the  other, 
gruffly. 

"Then  I  am  to  take  it,  that  in  your  office  of  guardian 
you'd  rather  we 'd  decline  this  invitation,  eh?" 

"  I  don't  care  a  rush  for  it  either  way,  but  looking  to  the 
sort  of  day  it  is  out  there,  I  incline  to  keep  the  house." 


68  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  I  don't  mind  bad  weather,  and  I  '11  go,"  said  Walpole,  in 
a  way  that  showed  temper  was  involved  in  the  resolution. 

Lockwood  made  no  other  reply  than  heaping  a  quantity  of 
turf  on  the  fire,  and  seating  himself  beside  it. 

When  a  man  tells  his  fellow-traveller  that  he  means  to 
go  his  own  road,  —  that  companionship  has  no  tie  upon  him, 
—  he  virtually  declares  the  partnership  dissolved ;  and  while 
Lockwood  sat  reflecting  over  this,  he  was  also  canvassing 
with  himself  how  far  he  might  have  been  to  blame  in  pro- 
voking this  hasty  resolution. 

*'  Perhaps  he  was  irritated  at  my  counsels,  perhaps  the 
notion  of  anything  like  guidance  offended  him ;  perhaps  it 
was  the  phrase  '  bear-leadership,'  and  the  half-threat  of 
betraying  him,  has  done  the  mischief."  Now,  the  gallant 
soldier  was  a  slow  thinker ;  it  took  him  a  deal  of  time  to 
arrange  the  details  of  any  matter  in  his  mind,  and  when  he 
tried  to  muster  his  ideas  there  were  many  which  would  not 
answer  the  call,  and  of  those  which  came,  there  were  not  a 
few  which  deemed  to  present  themselves  in  a  refractory  and 
unwilling  spirit,  so  that  he  had  almost  to  suppress  a  mutiny 
before  he  proceeded  to  his  inspection. 

Nor  did  the  strong  cheroots,  which  he  smoked  to  clear  his 
faculties  and  develop  his  mental  resources,  always  contribute 
to  this  end,  though  their  soothing  influence  certainly  helped 
to  make  him  more  satisfied  with  his  judgments. 

"Now,  look  here,  Walpole,"  said  he,  determining  that  he 
would  save  himself  all  unnecessary  labor  of  thought  by 
throwing  the  burden  of  the  case  on  the  respondent,  —  "  look 
here:  take  a  calm  view  of  this  thing,  and  see  if  it's  quite 
wise  In  you  to  go  back  into  trammels  it  cost  you  some  trouble 
to  escape  from.  You  call  it  spooning,  but  you  won't  deny 
you  went  very  far  with  that  young  woman,  — farther,  I  sus- 
pect than  you  've  told  me  yet.     Eh  !  is  that  true  or  not?  " 

He  waited  a  reasonable  time  for  a  reply ;  but  none  com- 
ing, he  went  on;  "I  don't  want  a  forced  confidence.  You 
may  say  it 's  no  business  of  mine,  and  there  I  agree  with 
you,  and  probably  if  you  put  me  to  the  question  in  the  same 
fashion  I  'd  give  you  a  very  short  answer.  Remember  one 
thing,  however,  old  fellow:  I've  seen  a  precious  deal  more 
of  life  and  the  world  than  you  have!     From  sixteen  years  of 


SHOWING   HOW  FRIENDS  MAY  DIFFER.  69 

age,  when  you  were  hammering  away  at  Greek  verbs  and 
some  such  balderdash  at  Oxford,  I  was  up  at  Rangoon  with 
the  very  fastest  set  of  men  —  ay,  of  women,  too  —  I  ever 
lived  with  in  all  my  life.  Half  of  our  fellows  were  killed 
off  by  it.  Of  course  people  will  say  climate,  climate!  but 
if  I  were  to  give  you  the  history  of  one  day  —  just  twenty- 
four  hours  of  our  life  up  there  —  you  'd  say  that  the  wonder 
is  there  's  any  one  alive  to  tell  it.'* 

He  turned  around  at  this  to  enjoy  the  expression  of 
horror  and  surprise  he  hoped  to  have  called  up,  and  per- 
ceived for  the  first  time  that  he  was  alone.  He  rang  the 
bell,  and  asked  the  waiter  where  the  other  gentleman  had 
gone,  and  learned  that  he  had  ordered  a  car,  and  set  out 
for  Kilgobbin  Castle  more  than  half  an  hour  before. 

''All  right,"  said  he,  fiercely.  "I  wash  my  hands  of  it 
altogether!  I'm  heartily  glad  I  told  him  so  before  he 
went."  He  smoked  on  very  vigorously  for  half  an  hour, 
the  burden  of  his  thoughts  being  perhaps  revealed  by  the 
summing-up,  as  he  said,  "  And  when  you  are  '  in  for  it, ' 
Master  Cecil,  and  some  precious  scrape  it  will  be,  if  I  move 
hand  or  foot  to  pull  you  through  it,  call  me  a  Major  of 
Marines,  that 's  all,  — just  call  me  a  Major  of  Marines!  " 
The  ineffable  horror  of  such  an  imputation  served  as  matter 
for  revery  for  hours. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A    DRIVE    THROUGH    A    BOG. 

While  Lockwood  continued  thus  to  doubt  and  debate  with 
himself,  Walpole  was  already  some  miles  on  his  way  to 
Kilgobbin.  Not,  indeed,  that  he  had  made  any  remarkable 
progress,  for  the  "mare  that  was  to  rowl  his  honor  over  in 
an  hour  and  half  "  had  to  be  taken  from  the  field  where  she 
had  been  ploughing  since  daybreak,  while  "the  boy"  that 
should  drive  her  was  a  little  old  man  who  had  to  be  aroused 
from  a  condition  of  drunkenness  in  a  hayloft,  and  installed 
in  his  office. 

Nor  were  these  the  only  difficulties.  The  roads  that  led 
through  the  bog  were  so  numerous  and  so  completely  alike 
that  it  only  needed  the  dense  atmosphere  of  a  rainy  day  to 
make  it  matter  of  great  difficulty  to  discover  the  right 
track.  More  than  once  were  they  obliged  to  retrace  their 
steps  after  a  considerable  distance;  and  the  driver's  impa- 
tience always  took  the  shape  of  a  reproach  to  Walpole,  who, 
having  nothing  else  to  do,  should  surely  have  minded 
where  they  were  going.  Now,  not  only  was  the  traveller 
utterly  ignorant  of  the  geography  of  the  land  he  journeyed 
in,  but  his  thoughts  were  far  and  away  from  the  scenes 
around  him.  Very  scattered  and  desultory  thoughts  were 
they,  at  one  time  over  the  Alps  and  with  "long-agoes:" 
nights  at  Rome  clashing  with  mornings  on  the  Campagna ; 
vast  salons  crowded  with  people  of  many  nations,  all  more 
or  less  busy  with  that  great  traffic  which,  whether  it  take 
the  form  of  religion,  or  politics,  or  social  intrigue,  hate, 
love,  or  rivalry,  makes  up  what  we  call  "the  world;"  or 
there  were  sunsets  dying  away  rapidly  —  as  they  will  do  — 
over  that  great  plain  outside  the  city,  whereon  solitude  and 


A  DRIVE  THROUGH  A  BOG.  71 

silence  are  as  much  masters  as  on  a  vast  prairie  of  the  West; 
and  he  thought  of  times  when  he  rode  back  at  nightfall 
beside  Nina  Kostalergi,  when  little  flashes  would  cross 
them  of  that  romance  that  very  worldly  folk  now  and  then 
taste  of,  and  delight  in  with  a  zest  all  the  greater  that  the 
sensation  is  so  new  and  strange  to  them.  Then  there  was 
the  revulsion  from  the  blaze  of  waxlights  and  the  glitter  of 
diamonds,  the  crash  of  orchestras  and  the  din  of  conversa- 
tion, the  intoxication  of  the  flattery  that  champagne  only 
seems  to  "accentuate,"  to  the  unbroken  stillness  of  the 
hour,  when  even  the  footfall  of  the  horse  is  unheard,  and  a 
dreamy  doubt  that  this  quietude,  this  soothing  sense  of 
calm,  is  higher  happiness  than  all  the  glitter  and  all  the 
splendor  of  the  ball-room,  and  that  in  the  dropping  words 
we  now  exchange,  and  in  the  stray  glances,  there  is  a  sig- 
nificance and  an  exquisite  delight  we  never  felt  till  now; 
for,  glorious  as  is  the  thought  of  a  returned  affection,  full 
of  ecstasy  the  sense  of  a  heart  all,  all  our  own,  there  is  in 
the  first  half-doubtful,  distrustful  feeling  of  falling  in  love, 
with  all  its  chances  of  success  or  failure,  something  that 
has  its  moments  of  bliss  nothing  of  earthly  delight  can  ever 
equal.  To  the  verge  of  that  possibility  Walpole  had 
reached  —  but  gone  no  further  —  with  Nina  Kostalergi.  The 
young  men  of  the  age  are  an  eminently  calculating  and 
prudent  class,  and  they  count  the  cost  of  an  action  with  a 
marvellous  amount  of  accuracy.  Is  it  the  turf  and  its 
teachings  to  which  this  crafty  and  cold-blooded  spirit  is 
owing?  Have  they  learned  to  "square  their  book"  on  life 
by  the  lessons  of  Ascot  and  Newmarket,  and  seen  that,  no 
matter  how  probably  they  "stand  to  win"  on  this,  they 
must  provide  for  that,  and  that  no  caution  or  foresight  is 
enough  that  will  not  embrace  every  casualty  of  any 
venture  ? 

There  is  no  need  to  tell  a  younger  son  of  the  period  that 
he  must  not  marry  a  pretty  girl  of  doubtful  family  and  no 
fortune.  He  may  have  his  doubts  on  scores  of  subjects: 
he  may  not  be  quite  sure  whether  he  ought  to  remain  a  Whig 
with  Lord  Russell  or  go  in  for  Odgerism  and  the  ballot;  he 
may  be  uncertain  about  Colenso,  and  have  his  misgivings 
about  the   Pentateuch;    he  may  not  be  easy  in   his   mind 


72  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

about  the  Russians  in  the  East,  or  the  Americans  in  the 
West;  uncomfortable  suspicions  may  cross  him  that  the 
Volunteers  are  not  as  quick  in  evolution  as  the  Zouaves, 
or  that  England  generally  does  not  sing  "  Rule  Britannia  " 
so  lustily  as  she  used  to  do.  All  these  are  possible  mis- 
givings; but  that  he  should  take  such  a  plunge  as  matri- 
mony, on  other  grounds  than  the  perfect  prudence  and  profit 
of  the  investment,  could  never  occur  to  him. 

As  to  the  sinfulness  of  tampering  with  a  girl's  affections 
by  what  in  slang  is  called  "spooning,"  it  was  purely  absurd 
to  think  of  it.  You  might  as  well  say  that  playing  sixpenny 
whist  made  a  man  a  gambler.  And  then,  as  to  the  spoon- 
ing, it  was  partie  egale  ;  the  lady  was  no  worse  off  than  the 
gentleman.  If  there  were  by  any  hazard  —  and  this  he  was 
disposed  to  doubt  —  "affections"  at  stake,  the  man  "stood 
to  lose "  as  much  as  the  woman.  But  this  was  not  the 
aspect  in  which  the  case  presented  itself,  flirtation  being,  in 
his  idea,  to  marriage  what  the  preliminary  canter  is  to  the 
race,  —  something  to  indicate  the  future,  but  so  dimly  and 
doubtfully  as  not  to  decide  the  hesitation  of  the  waverer. 

If,  then,  Walpole  was  never  for  a  moment  what  mothers 
call  serious  in  his  attentions  to  Mademoiselle  Kostalergi, 
be  was  not  the  less  fond  of  her  society ;  he  frequented  the 
places  where  she  was  likely  to  be  met  with,  and  paid  her 
that  degree  of  "court  "  that  only  stopped  short  of  being 
particular  by  his  natural  caution.  There  was  the  more 
need  for  the  exercise  of  this  quality  at  Rome,  since  there 
were  many  there  who  knew  of  his  engagement  with  his 
cousin.  Lady  Maude,  and  who  would  not  have  hesitated  to 
report  on  any  breach  of  fidelity.  Now,  however,  all  these 
restraints  were  withdrawn.  They  were  not  in  Italy,  where 
London,  by  a  change  of  venue,  takes  its  "  records  "  to  be 
tried  in  the  dull  days  of  winter.  They  were  in  Ireland,  and 
in  a  remote  spot  of  Ireland,  where  there  were  no  gossips, 
no  clubs,  no  afternoon-tea  committees  to  sit  on  reputations, 
and  was  it  not  pleasant  now  to  see  this  nice  girl  again  in 
perfect  freedom?  These  were,  loosely  stated,  the  thoughts 
which  occupied  him  as  he  went  along;  very  little  disposed 
to  mind  how  often  the  puzzled  driver  halted  to  decide  the 
road,  or  how  frequently  he  retraced  miles  of  distance.     Men 


A  DRIVE  THROUGH  A  BOG.  73 

of  the  world,  especially  when  young  in  life,  and  more  real- 
istic than  they  will  be  twenty  years  later,  proud  of  the  in- 
credulity they  can  feel  on  the  score  of  everything  and 
everybody,  are  often  fond  of  making  themselves  heroes  to 
their  own  hearts  of  some  little  romance  which  shall  not  cost 
them  dearly  to  indulge  in,  and  merely  engage  some  loose- 
lying  sympathies  without  in  any  way  prejudicing  their  road 
in  life.  They  accept  of  these  sentimentalities  as  the  vicar's 
wife  did  the  sheep  in  the  picture,  pleased  to  "have  as  manyv 
as  the  painter  would  put  in  for  nothing." 

Now,  Cecil  Walpole  never  intended  that  this  little  Irish 
episode  —  and  episode  he  determined  it  should  be  —  should 
in  any  degree  affect  the  serious  fortunes  of  his  life.  He 
was  engaged  to  his  cousin,  Lady  Maude  Bickerstaffe,  and 
they  would  be  married  some  day.  Not  that  either  was  very 
impatient  to  exchange  present  comfort  —  and,  on  her  side, 
affluence  —  for  a  marriage  on  small  means  and  no  great 
prospects  beyond  that.  They  were  not  much  in  love. 
Walpole  knew  that  the  Lady  Maude's  fortune  was  small; 
but  the  man  who  married  her  must  "be  taken  care  of,"  and 
by  either  side,  for  there  were  as  many  Tories  as  Whigs  in 
the  family,  and  Lady  Maude  knew  that  half  a  dozen  years 
ago  she  would  certainly  not  have  accepted  Walpole;  but 
that  with  every  year  her  chances  of  a  better  parti  were  di- 
minishing ;  and,  worse  than  all  this,  each  was  well  aware  of 
the  inducements  by  which  the  other  was  influenced.  Nor 
did  the  knowledge  in  any  way  detract  from  their  self- 
complacence  or  satisfaction  with  the  match. 

Lady  Maude  was  to  accompany  her  uncle  to  Ireland,  and 
do  the  honors  of  his  court;  for  he  was  a  bachelor,  and 
pleaded  hard  with  his  party  on  that  score  to  be  let  off 
accepting  the  viceroyalty. 

Lady  Maude,  however,  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  even  if 
she  had,  how  should  she  ever  hear  of  an  adventure  in  the 
Bog  of  Allen! 

But  was  there  to  be  an  adventure  ?  and  if  so,  what  sort 
of  adventure?  Irishmen,  Walpole  had  heard,  had  all  the 
jealousy  about  their  women  that  characterizes  savage  races, 
and  were  ready  to  resent  what,  in  civilized  people,  no  one 
would  dream  of  regarding  as  matter  for  umbrage.     Well, 


74  LOKD  KILGOBBIN. 

then,  it  was  only  to  be  more  cautious,  —  more  on  one's 
guard;  besides,  the  tact,  too,  which  a  knowledge  of  life 
should  give  — 

"Eh,  what 's  this?     Why  are  you  stopping  here?  " 

This  was  addressed  now  to  the  driver,  who  had  descended 
from  his  box,  and  was  standing  in  advance  of  the  horse. 

"Why  don't  I  drive  on,  is  it?"  asked  he,  in  a  voice  of 
despair.     "Sure,  there  's  no  road." 

"And  does  it  stop  here?"  cried  Walpole,  in  horror;  for 
he  now  perceived  that  the  road  really  came  to  an  abrupt 
ending  in  the  midst  of  the  bog. 

"Begorra,  it 's  just  what  it  does.  Ye  see,  your  honor," 
added  he,  in  a  confidential  tone,  "  it 's  one  of  them  tricks 
the  English  played  us  in  the  year  of  the  famine.  They  got 
two  millions  of  money  to  make  roads  in  Ireland,  but  they 
were  so  afraid  it  would  make  us  prosperous  and  richer  than 
themselves  that  they  set  about  making  roads  that  go  no- 
where. Sometimes  to  the  top  of  a  mountain,  or  down  to 
the  sea,  where  there  was  no  harbor,  and  sometimes,  like  this 
one,  into  the  heart  of  a  bog." 

"That  was  very  spiteful  and  very  mean,  too,"  said 
Walpole. 

"Wasn't  it  just  mean,  and  nothing  else!  and  it's  five 
miles  we  '11  have  to  go  back  now  to  the-  cross-roads. 
Begorra,  your  honor,  it 's  a  good  dhrink  ye  '11  have  to  give 
me  for  this  day's  work." 

"You  forget,  my  friend,  that  but  for  your  own  con- 
founded stupidity  I  should  have  been  at  Kilgobbin  Castle 
by  this  time." 

"And  ye '11  be  there  yet,  with  God's  help!"  said  he, 
turning  the  horse's  head.  "Bad  luck  to  them  for  the  road- 
making;  and  it 's  a  pity,  after  all,  it  goes  nowhere,  for  it 's 
the  nicest  bit  to  travel  in  the  whole  country." 

"Come  now,  jump  up,  old  fellow,  and  make  your  beast 
step  out.     I  don't  want  to  pass  the  night  here." 

"You  would  n't  have  a  dhrop  of  whiskey  with  your 
honor?  " 

"Of  course  not." 

"Nor  even  brandy?  " 

"No,  not  even  brandy." 


A  DRIVE  THROUGH  A  BOG.  76 

"Musba,  I  'm  thinking  you  must  be  English,"  muttered 
he,  half  sulkily. 

"And  if  I  were,  is  there  any  great  harm  in  that?  " 

"By  coorse  not;  how  could  ye  help  it?  I  suppose  we  'd 
all  of  us  be  better  if  we  could.  Sit  a  bit  more  forward, 
your  honor;  the  bellyband  does  be  lifting  her;  and  as 
you  're  doing  nothing,  just  give  her  a  welt  of  that  stick  in 
your  hand,  now  and  then,  for  I  lost  the  lash  off  my  whip, 
and  I  've  nothing  but  this!  "  And  he  displayed  the  short 
handle  of  what  had  once  been  a  whip,  with  a  thong  of 
leather  dangling  at  the  end. 

"  I  must  say  I  was  n't  aware  that  I  was  to  have  worked  my 
passage,"  said  Walpole,  with  something  between  drollery 
and  irritation. 

"She  does  n't  care  for  bating;  stick  her  with  the  end  of 
it.  That 's  the  way.  We  '11  get  on  elegant  now.  I  suppose 
you  was  never  here  before  ?  " 

"No;  and  I  think  I  can  promise  you  I'll  not  come 
again." 

"I  hope  you  will,  then,  and  many  a  time,  too.  This  is 
the  Bog  of  Allen  you  're  travelling  now,  and  they  tell  there  's 
not  the  like  of  it  in  the  three  kingdoms." 

"I  trust  there's  not!" 

"The  English,  they  say,  has  no  bogs.  Nothing  but 
coal." 

"Quite  true." 

"Erin,  ma  bouchal  you  are!  first  gem  of  the  say!  that 's 
what  Dan  O'Connell  always  called  you.  Are  you  gettin' 
tired  with  the  stick?" 

"I  'm  tired  of  your  wretched  old  beast,  and  your  car,  and 
yourself,  too,"  said  Walpole;  "and  if  I  were  sure  that  was 
the  castle  yonder,  I  'd  make  my  way  straight  to  it  on  foot." 

"And  why  wouldn't  you,  if  your  honor  liked  it  best? 
Why  would  ye  be  beholden  to  a  car  if  you'd  rather  walk? 
Only  mind  the  bog-holes ;  for  there  's  twenty  feet  of  water 
in  some  of  them,  and  the  sides  is  so  straight  you  '11  never 
get  out  if  you  fall  in." 

"Drive  on,  then.  I'll  remain  where  I  am;  but  don't 
bother  me  with  your  talk;  and  no  more  questioning." 

"By  coorse  I  won't,  —  why  would  I?     Is  n't  your  honor  a 


76  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

gentleman,  and  have  n't  you  a  right  to  say  what  you  plaze; 
and  what  am  I  but  a  poor  boy,  earning  his  bread  ?  Just  the 
way  it  is  all  through  the  world ;  some  has  everything  they 
want,  and  more  besides,  and  others  has  n't  a  stitch  to  their 
backs,  or  maybe  a  pinch  of  tobacco  to  put  in  a  pipe." 

This  appeal  was  timed  by  seeing  that  Walpole  had  just 
lighted  a  fresh  cigar,  whose  fragrant  fumes  were  wafted 
across  the  speaker's  nose. 

Firm  to  his  determination  to  maintain  silence,  Walpole 
paid  no  attention  to  the  speech,  nor  uttered  a  word  of  any 
kind;  and  as  a  light  drizzling  rain  had  now  begun  to  fall, 
and  obliged  him  to  shelter  himself  under  an  umbrella,  he 
was  at  length  saved  from  his  companion's  loquacity. 
Baffled,  but  not  beaten,  the  old  fellow  began  to  sing,  at 
first  in  a  low,  droning  tone ;  but  growing  louder  as  the  fire 
of  patriotism  warmed  him,  he  shouted,  to  a  very  wild  and 
somewhat  irregular  tune,  a  ballad,  of  which  Walpole  could 
not  but  hear  the  words  occasionally,  while  the  tramping  of 
the  fellow's  feet  on  the  foot-board  kept  time  to  his  song: 

**  'T  is  our  fun  they  can't  forgive  us, 

Nor  our  wit  so  sharp  and  keen  ; 
But  there  's  nothing  that  provokes  them 

Like  our  wearin'  of  the  green. 
They  thought  Poverty  would  bate  us, 

But  we  '11  sell  our  last  '  boneen ' 
And  we  '11  live  on  could  paytatees, 

All  for  wearin'  of  the  green. 

Oh,  the  wearin'  of  the  green  —  the  wearin'  of  the  green  ! 

'Tis  the  color  best  becomes  us 

Is  the  wearin'  of  the  green  !  " 

"Here  's  a  cigar  for  you,  old  fellow;  and  stop  that  infer- 
nal chant." 

"There  's  only  five  verses  more,  and  I  '11  sing  them  for 
your  honor  before  I  light  the  baccy." 

"If  you  do,  then,  you  shall  never  light  baccy  of  mine. 
Can't  you  see  that  your  confounded  song  is  driving  me 
mad?" 

"Faix,  ye  're  the  first  I  ever  see  disliked  music,"  mut- 
tered he,  in  a  tone  almost  compassionate. 

And   now   as   Walpole   raised   the  collar  of  his  coat  to 


A  DRIVE   THROUGH  A  BOG.  77 

defend  his  ears,  and  prepared,  as  well  he  might,  to  resist 
the  weather,  he  muttered,  "And  this  is  the  beautiful  land 
of  scenery;  and  this  the  climate;  and  this  the  amusing  and 
witty  peasant  we  read  of.  I  have  half  a  mind  to  tell  the 
world  how  it  has  been  humbugged !  "  And  thus  musing,  he 
jogged  on  the  weary  road,  nor  raised  his  head  till  the  heavy 
clash  of  an  iron  gate  aroused  him,  and  he  saw  that  they 
were  driving  along  an  approach,  with  some  clumps  of  pretty 
but  young  timber  on  either  side. 

"Here  we  are,  your  honor,  safe  and  sound,"  cried  the 
driver,  as  proudly  as  if  he  had  not  been  five  hours  over  what 
should  have  been  done  in  one  and  a  half.  "This  is  Kil- 
gobbin.  All  the  ould  trees  was  cut  down  by  Oliver  Crom- 
well, they  say;  but  there  will  be  a  fine  wood  here  yet. 
That's  the  castle  you  see  yonder,  over  them  trees;  but 
there 's  no  flag  flying.  The  Lord  's  away.  I  suppose  I  '11 
have  to  wait  for  your  honor?  You  '11  be  coming  back  with 
me?" 

"Yes,  you  '11  have  to  wait."  And  Walpole  looked  at  his 
watch,  and  saw  it  was  already  past  five  o'clock. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    SEARCH    FOR    ARMS. 

When  the  hour  of  luncheon  came,  and  no  guests  made  their 
appearance,  the  young  girls  at  the  castle  began  to  discuss 
what  they  should  best  do.  "I  know  nothing  of  fine  people 
and  their  ways,"  said  Kate;  "you  must  take  the  whole 
direction  here,  Nina." 

"It  is  only  a  question  of  time,  and  a  cold  luncheon  can 
wait  without  difficulty." 

And  so  they  waited  till  three,  then  till  four,  and  now  it 
was  five  o'clock;  when  Kate,  who  had  been  over  the 
kitchen-garden,  and  the  calves'  paddock,  and  inspecting  a 
small  tract  laid  out  for  a  nursery,  came  back  to  the  house 
very  tired,  and,  as  she  said,  also  very  hungry.  "You 
know,  Nina,"  said  she,  entering  the  room,  "I  ordered  no 
dinner  to-day.  I  speculated  on  our  making  our  dinner  when 
your  friends  lunched;  and  as  they  have  not  lunched,  we 
have  not  dined;  and  I  vote  we  sit  down  now.  I  'm  afraid  I 
shall  not  be  as  pleasant  company  as  that  Mr.  —  do  tell  me 
his  name  —  Walpole;  but  I  pledge  myself  to  have  as  good 
an  appetite." 

Nina  made  no  answer.  She  stood  at  the  open  window; 
her  gaze  steadily  bent  on  the  strip  of  narrow  road  that  trav- 
ersed the  wide  moor  before  her. 

"Ain't  you  hungry?  I  mean,  ain't  you  famished,  child?  " 
asked  Kate. 

"No,  I  don't  think  so.  I  could  eat;  but  I  believe  I 
could  go  without  eating  just  as  well." 

"Well,  I  must  dine;  and  if  you  were  not  looking  so  nice 
and  fresh,  with  a  rosebud  in  your  hair  and  your  white  dress 
so  daintily  looped  up,  I  'd  ask  leave  not  to  dress." 

"If  you  were  to  smooth  your  hair,  and,  perhaps,  change 
your  boots  —  " 


THE   SEARCH  FOR  ARMS.  79 

"  Oh,  I  know,  and  become  in  every  respect  a  little  civil- 
ized. My  poor  dear  cousin,  what  a  mission  you  have 
undertaken  among  the  savages !  Own  it  honestly,  you  never 
guessed  the  task  that  was  before  you  when  you  came 
here." 

"Oh,  it 's  very  nice  savagery,  all  the  same,"  said  the 
other,  smiling  pleasantly. 

"  There  now !  "  cried  Kate,  as  she  threw  her  hat  to  one 
side,  and  stood  arranging  her  hair  before  the  glass.  "I 
make  this  toilette  under  protest,  for  we  are  going  in  to 
luncheon,  not  dinner ;  and  all  the  world  knows,  and  all  the 
illustrated  newspapers  show,  that  people  do  not  dress  for 
lunch.  And,  by  the  way,  that  is  something  you  have  not 
got  in  Italy.  All  the  women  gathering  together  in  their 
garden-bonnets  and  their  morning  muslins,  and  the  men  in 
their  knickerbockers  and  their  coarse  tweed  coats." 

"  I  declare  I  think  you  are  in  better  spirits  since  you  see 
these  people  are  not  coming." 

"  It  is  true.  You  have  guessed  it,  dearest.  The  thought 
of  anything  grand,  —  as  a  visitor;  anything  that  would  for 
a  moment  suggest  the  unpleasant  question,  Is  this  right? 
or.  Is  that  usual  ?  —  makes  me  downright  irritable.  Come, 
are  you  ready  ?     May  I  offer  you  my  arm  ?  " 

And  now  they  were  at  table,  Kate  rattling  away  in  un- 
wonted gayety,  and  trying  to  rally  Nina  out  of  her  disap- 
pointment. 

"I  declare,  Nina,  everything  is  so  pretty  I  am  ashamed 
to  eat.  Those  chickens  near  you  are  the  least  ornamental 
things  I  see.  Cut  me  off  a  wing.  Oh,  I  forgot,  you  never 
acquired  the  barbarous  art  of  carving." 

"I  can  cut  this,"  said  Nina,  drawing  a  dish  of  tongue 
towards  her. 

"What!  that  marvellous  production  like  a  parterre  of 
flowers  ?     It  would  be  downright  profanation  to  destroy  it. " 

"Then  shall  I  give  you  some  of  this,  Kate?  " 

"Why,  child,  that  is  strawberry-cream.  But  I  cannot 
eat  all  alone;  do  help  yourself." 

"I  shall  take  something  by  and  by." 

"  What  do  young  ladies  in  Italy  eat  when  they  are  —  no^ 
I  don't  mean  in  love;  I  shall  call  it  —  in  despair?  " 


80  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  Give  me  some  of  that  white  wine  beside  you.  There ! 
don't  you  hear  a  noise?  I  'm  certain  I  heard  the  sound  of 
wheels." 

"  Most  sincerely,  I  trust  not.  I  would  n't  for  anything 
these  people  should  break  in  upon  us  now.  If  my  brother 
Dick  should  drop  in,  I'd  welcome  him,  and  he  would  make 
our  little  party  perfect.  Do  you  know,  Nina,  Dick  can  be 
so  jolly.     AYhat  's  that?  there  are  voices  there  without." 

As  she  spoke,  the  door  was  opened,  and  Walpole  entered. 
The  young  girls  had  but  time  to  rise  from  their  seats,  when 
—  they  never  could  exactly  say  how  —  they  found  them- 
selves shaking  hands  with  him  in  great  cordiality. 

"And  your  friend,  — where  is  he?" 

"Nursing  a  sore  throat,  or  a  sprained  ankle,  or  a  some- 
thing or  other.  Shall  I  confess  it,  —  as  only  a  suspicion  on 
my  part,  however,  —  that  I  do  believe  he  was  too  much 
shocked  at  the  outrageous  liberty  I  took  in  asking  to  be 
admitted  here  to  accept  any  partnership  in  the  imperti- 
nence?" 

"We  expected  you  at  two  or  three  o'clock,"  said  Nina. 

"And  shall  I  tell  you  why  I  was  not  here  before?  Per- 
haps you  '11  scarcely  credit  me  when  I  say  I  have  been  five 
hours  on  the  road." 

"Five  hours!     How  did  you  manage  that?  " 

"In  this  way.  I  started  a  few  minutes  after  twelve 
.from  the  inn,  — I  on  foot,  the  car  to  overtake  me."  And  he 
went  on  to  give  a  narrative  of  his  wanderings  over  the  bog, 
I  imitating,  as  well  as  he  could,  the  driver's  conversations 
with  him,  and  the  reproaches  he  vented  on  his  inattention  to 
the  road.  Kate  enjoyed  the  story  with  all  the  humoristic 
fun  of  one  who  knew  thoroughly  how  the  peasant  had  been 
playing  with  the  gentleman,  just  for  the  indulgence  of  that 
strange  sarcastic  temper  that  underlies  the  Irish  nature; 
and  she  could  fancy  how  much  more  droll  it  would  have 
been  to  have  heard  the  narrative  as  told  by  the  driver  of 
the  car. 

"And  don't  you  like  his  song,  Mr.  Walpole?  " 

"What!  '  The  Wearing  of  the  Green?  '  It  was  the  drear- 
iest dirge  I  ever  listened  to." 

"Come,  you   shall    not   say   so.     When  we  go  into  the 


THE   SEARCH  FOR  ARMS.  81 

drawing-room,  Nina  shall  sing  it  for  you,  and  I  '11  wager 
you  recant  your  opinion." 

"And  do  you  sing  rebel  canticles,  Mademoiselle 
Kostalergi?" 

"Yes,  I  do  all  my  cousin  bids  me.  I  wear  a  red  cloak. 
How  is  it  called  ?  " 

"Connemara?  " 

Nina  nodded. 

"  That 's  the  name,  but  I  'm  not  going  to  say  it;  and  when 
we  go  abroad  —  that  is,  on  the  bog  there,  for  a  walk  —  we 
dress  in  green  petticoats  and  wear  very  thick  shoes." 

*'And,  in  a  word,  are  very  generally  barbarous." 

*'Well,  if  you  be  really  barbarians,"  said  Walpole, 
filling  his  glass,  "I  wonder  what  I  would  not  give  to  be 
allowed  to  join  the  tribe." 

''Oh,  you  'd  want  to  be  a  sachem,  or  a  chief,  or  a 
mystery-man,  at  least;  and  we  couldn't  permit  that,"  cried 
Kate. 

''No;  I  crave  admission  as  the  humblest  of  your 
followers." 

"Shall  we  put  him  to  the  test,  Nina?  " 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  the  other. 

"Make  him  take  a  Ribbon  oath,  or  the  pledge  of  a  UnitegK 
Irishman.     I  've  copies  of  both  in  papa's  study."  / 

"I  should  like  to  see  these  immensely,"  said  Walpole. 

"I'll  see  if  I  can't  find  them,"  cried  Kate,  rising,  and 
hastening  away. 

For  some  seconds  after  she  left  the  room  there  was  perfect 
silence.  Walpole  tried  to  catch  Nina's  eye  before  he 
spoke,  but  she  continued  steadily  to  look  down,  and  did 
not  once  raise  her  lids. 

"Is  she  not  very  nice, — is  she  not  very  beautiful?" 
asked  she,  in  a  low  voice. 

"It  is  of  you  I  want  to  speak." 

And  he  drew  his  chair  closer  to  her,  and  tried  to  take 
her  hand ;  but  she  withdrew  it  quickly,  and  moved  slightly 
away. 

"  If  you  knew  the  delight  it  is  to  me  to  see  you  again, 
Nina  —  well,  Mademoiselle  Kostalergi.  Must  it  be 
Mademoiselle  ?  " 

6 


82  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

"  I  don't  remember  it  was  ever  '  Nina, '  "  said  she,  coldly. 

"Perhaps  only  in  my  thoughts.  To  my  heart,  I  can 
swear,  you  were  Nina.  But  tell  me  how  you  came  here, 
and  when,  and  for  how  long,  for  I  want  to  know  all.  Speak 
to  me,  I  beseech  you.  She  '11  be  back  in  a  moment,  and 
when  shall  I  have  another  instant  alone  with  j^-ou  like  this? 
Tell  me  how  you  came  amongst  them,  and  are  they  really 
all  rebels  ?  " 

Kate  entered  at  the  instant,  saying,  "I  can't  find  it;  but 
I'll  have  a  good  search  to-morrow,  for  I  know  it 's  there." 

"Do,  by  all  means,  Kate,  for  Mr.  Walpole  is  very  anx- 
ious to  learn  if  he  be  admitted  legitimately  into  this 
brotherhood,  —  whatever  it  be ;  he  has  just  asked  me  if  we 
were  really  all  rebels  here." 

"I  trust  he  does  not  suppose  I  would  deceive  him,"  said 
Kate,  gravely.  "And  when  he  hears  you  sing,  '  The  black- 
ened hearth,  the  fallen  roof,'  he  '11  not  question  you^  Nina. 
Do  you  know  that  song,  Mr.  Walpole?  " 

He  smiled  as  he  said  "No." 

"Won't  it  be  so  nice,"  said  she,  "to  catch  a  fresh  ingen- 
uous Saxon  wandering  innocently  over  the  Bog  of  Allen, 
and  send  him  back  to  his  friends  a  Fenian !  " 

"Make  me  what  you  please,  but  don't  send  me  away." 

"  Tell  me,  really,  what  would  you  do  if  we  made  you  take 
the  oath?  " 

"Betray  you,  of  course,  the  moment  I  got  up  to  Dublin." 

Nina's  eyes  flashed  angrily,  as  though  such  jesting  was 
an  offence. 

"  No,  no,  the  shame  of  such  treason  would  be  intolerable ; 
but  you  'd  go  your  way  and  behave  as  though  you  never 
saw  us." 

"Oh,  he  could  do  that  without  the  inducement  of  a  per- 
jury," said  Nina,  in  Italian;  and  then  added  aloud,  "Let 's 
go  and  make  some  music.  Mr.  Walpole  sings  charmingly, 
Kate,  and  is  very  obliging  about  it,  —  at  least,  he  used 
to  be." 

"I  am  all  that  I  used  to  be  —  towards  that,"  whispered  he, 
as  she  passed  him  to  take  Kate's  arm  and  walk  away. 

"You  don't  seem  to  have  a  thick  neighborhood  about 
you,"  said  Walpole.     "Have  you  any  people  living  near? " 


THE   SEARCH  FOR  ARMS.  83 

"Yes,  we  have  a  dear  old  friend, — a  Miss  O'Shea,  a 
maiden  lady,  who  lives  a  few  miles  off.  By  the  way, 
there  's  something  to  show  you,  —  an  old  maid  who  hunts 
her  own  harriers." 

"What!  are  you  in  earnest?  " 

"On  my  word,  it  is  true!  Nina  can't  endure  her;  but 
Nina  doesn't  care  for  hare-hunting,  and,  I  'm  afraid  to  say, 
never  saw  a  badger  drawn  in  her  life." 

"And  have  you?"  asked  he,  almost  with  horror  in  his 
tone. 

"I  '11  show  you  three  regular  little  turnspit  dogs  to-morrow 
that  will  answer  that  question." 

"How  I  wish  Lockwood  had  come  out  here  with  me!  "  said 
Walpole,  almost  uttering  a  thought. 

"  That  is,  you  wish  he  had  seen  a  bit  of  barbarous  Ire- 
land he  'd  scarcely  credit  from  mere  description.  But  per- 
haps I  'd  have  been  better  behaved  before  him.  I  'm 
treating  you  with  all  the  freedom  of  an  old  friend  of 
my  cousin's." 

Nina  had  meanwhile  opened  the  piano,  and  was  letting 
her  hands  stray  over  the  instrument  in  occasional  chords ; 
and  then,  in  a  low  voice  that  barely  blended  its  tones  with 
the  accompaniment,  she  sang  one  of  those  little  popular 
songs  of  Italy,  called  "Stornelli," — wild,  fanciful  melodies, 
with  that  blended  gayety  and  sadness  which  the  songs  of  a 
people  are  so  often  marked  by. 

"That  is  a  very  old  favorite  of  mine,"  said  Walpole, 
approaching  the  piano  as  noiselessly  as  though  he  feared 
to  disturb  the  singer;  and  now  he  stole  into  a  chair  at  her 
side.  "How  that  song  makes  me  wish  we  were  back  again, 
where  I  heard  it  first!  "  whispered  he,  gently. 

"I  forget  where  that  was,"  said  she,  carelessly. 

"No,  Nina,  you  do  not,"  said  he,  eagerly;  "it  was  at 
Albano,  the  day  we  all  went  to  Pallavicini's  villa." 

"And  I  sung  a  little  French  song,  '  Si  vous  n'avez  rien  a 
me  dire,'  which  you  were  vain  enough  to  imagine  was  a 
question  addressed  to  yourself;  and  you  made  me  a  sort 
of  declaration;  do  you  remember  all  that?  " 

"Every  word  of  it." 

"Why  don't  you  go  and  speak  to  my  cousin?     She  has 


84  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

opened  the  window  and  gone  out  upon  the  terrace,  and  I 
trust  you  understand  that  she  expects  you  to  follow  her." 
There  was  a  studied  calm  in  the  way  she  spoke  that  showed 
she  was  exerting  considerable  self-control. 

"No,  no,  Nina,  it  is  with  you  I  desire  to  speak,  to  see 
you  that  I  have  come  here." 

*'And  so  you  do  remember  that  you  made  me  a  declara- 
tion?    It  made  me  laugh  afterwards  as  I  thought  it  over." 

"Made  you  laugh!  " 

"Yes,  I  laughed  to  myself  at  the  ingenious  way  in  which 
you  conveyed  to  me  what  an  imprudence  it  was  in  you  to 
fall  in  love  with  a  girl  who  had  no  fortune,  and  the  shock  it 
would  give  your  friends  when  they  should  hear  she  was  a 
Greek." 

*'How  can  you  say  such  painful  things,  Nina?  how  can 
you  be  so  pitiless  as  this?" 

"  It  was  you  who  had  no  pity,  sir.  I  felt  a  deal  of  pity ; 
I  will  not  deny  it  was  for  myself.  I  don't  pretend  to  say 
that  I  could  give  a  correct  version  of  the  way  in  which  you 
conveyed  to  me  the  pain  it^  gave  you  that  I  was  not  a  prin- 
cess, a  Borromeo,  or  a  Colonna,  or  an  Altieri.  That  Greek 
adventurer,  yes,  —  you  cannot  deny  it,  I  overheard  these 
words  myself.  You  were  talking  to  an  English  girl ;  a  tall, 
rather  handsome  person  she  was,  —  I  shall  remember  her 
name  in  a  moment  if  you  cannot  help  me  to  it  sooner,  — a 
Lady  Bickerstaff e  —  " 

"Yes,  there  was  a  Lady  Maude  Bickerstaff e;  she  merely 
passed  through  Rome  for  Naples." 

"You  called  her  a  cousin,  I  remember." 

"There  is  some  cousinship  between  us;  I  forget  exactly 
in  what  degree." 

"Do  try  and  remember  a  little  more;  remember  that  you 
forgot  you  had  engaged  me  for  the  cotillon,  and  drove 
away  with  that  blond  beauty,  —  and  she  was  a  beauty,  or 
had  been  a  few  years  before;  at  all  events  you  lost  all 
memory  of  the  daughter  of  the  adventurer." 

"You  will  drive  me  distracted,  Nina,  if  you  say  such 
things." 

"I  know  it  is  wrong  and  it  is  cruel,  and  it  is  worse  than 
wrong  and  cruel,  it  is  what  you  English  call  under-bred,  to 


THE   SEARCH  FOR  ARMS.  86 

be  so  individually  disagreeable ;  but  this  grievance  of  mine 
has  been  weighing  very  heavily  on  my  heart,  and  I  have 
been  longing  to  tell  you  so." 

"Why  are  you  not  singing,  Nina?  "  cried  Kate  from  the 
terrace.  "You  told  me  of  a  duet,  and  I  think  you  are  bent 
on  having  it  without  music.'* 

"Yes,  we  are  quarrelling  fiercely,"  said  Nina.  "This 
gentleman  has  been  rash  enough  to  remind  me  of  an 
unsettled  score  between  us,  and  as  he  is  the  defaulter  —  " 

"I  dispute  the  debt." 

"Shall  I  be  the  judge  between  you?  "  asked  Kate. 

"On  no  account;  my  claim  once  disputed,  I  surrender 
it,"  said  Nina. 

"  I  must  say  you  are  very  charming  company.  You  won't 
sing,  and  you  '11  only  talk  to  say  disagreeable  things.  Shall 
I  make  tea  and  see  if  it  will  render  you  more  amiable  ?  " 

"Do  so,  dearest,  and  then  show  Mr.  Walpole  the  house; 
he  has  forgotten  what  brought  him  here,  I  really  believe." 

"You  know  that  I  have  not,"  muttered  he,  in  a  tone  of 
deep  meaning. 

"There  's  no  light  now  to  show  him  the  house;  Mr.  Wal- 
pole must  come  to-morrow,  when  papa  will  be  at  home  and 
delighted  to  see  him." 

"May  I  really  do  this?" 

"Perhaps,  besides,  your  friend  will  have  found  the  little 
inn  so  insupportable  that  he  too  will  join  us.  Listen  to 
that  sigh  of  poor  Nina's  and  you  '11  understand  what  it  is 
to  be  dreary!  " 

"No;  I  want  my  tea." 

"And  it  shall  have  it,"  said  Kate,  kissing  her  with  a 
petting  affectation,  as  she  left  the  room. 

"Now  one  word,  only  one,"  said  Walpole,  as  he  drew 
his  chair  close  to  her;  "if  I  swear  to  you  —  " 

"What's  that?  who  is  Kate  angry  with?"  cried  Nina, 
rising  and  rushing  towards  the  door.  "What  has  hap- 
pened ?  " 

"I'll  tell  you  what  has  happened,"  said  Kate,  as  with 
flashing  eyes  and  heightened  color  she  entered  the  room. 
"The  large  gate  of  the  outer  yard,  that  is  every  night  locked 
and  strongly  barred  at  sunset,  has  been  left  open,  and  they 


86  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

tell  me  that  three  men  have  come  in  —  Sally  says  five  —  and 
are  hiding  in  some  of  the  outhouses." 

"What  for?     Is  it  to  rob,  think  you?  "  asked  Walpole. 

"It  is  certainly  for  nothing  good.  They  all  know  that 
papa  is  away,  and  the  house  so  far  unprotected,"  continued 
Kate,  calmly.  "We  must  find  out  to-morrow  who  has  left 
the  gate  unbolted.  This  was  no  accident,  and  now  that 
they  are  setting  fire  to  the  ricks  all  round  us,  it  is  no  time 
for  carelessness." 

"Shall  we  search  the  oflSces  and  the  outbuildings?" 
asked  Walpole. 

"Of  course  not;  we  must  stand  by  the  house  and  take 
care  that  they  do  not  enter  it.  It 's  a  strong  old  place;  and 
even  if  they  forced  an  entrance  below,  they  couldn't  set 
fire  to  it." 

"Gould  they  force  their  way  up?  "  asked  Walpole. 

"Not  if  the  people  above  have  any  courage.  Just  come 
and  look  at  the  stair;  it  was  made  in  times  when  people 
thought  of  defending  themselves."  They  issued  forth  now 
together  to  the  top  of  the  landing,  where  a  narrow,  steep 
flight  of  stone  steps  descended  between  two  walls  to  the 
basement-story.  A  little  more  than  half-way  down  was  a 
low  iron  gate  or  grille  of  considerable  strength ;  though,  not 
being  above  four  feet  in  height,  it  could  have  been  no  great 
defence,  which  seemed,  after  all,  to  have  been  its  intention. 
"When  this  is  closed,"  said  Kate,  shutting  it  with  a  heavy 
bang,  "it 's  not  such  easy  work  to  pass  up  against  two  or 
three  resolute  people  at  the  top;  and  see  here,"  added  she, 
showing  a  deep  niche  or  alcove  in  the  wall,  "this  was  evi- 
dently meant  for  the  sentry  who  watched  the  wicket;  he 
could  stand  here  out  of  the  reach  of  all  fire." 

"  Would  you  not  say  she  was  longing  for  a  conflict?  "  said 
Nina,  gazing  at  her. 

*'No,  but  if  it  comes  I  '11  not  decline  it." 

"You  mean  you  '11  defend  the  stair?  "  asked  Walpole. 

She  nodded  assent. 

"What  arms  have  you?" 

"Plenty;  come  and  look  at  them.  Here,"  said  she,  enter- 
ing the  dining-room,  and  pointing  to  a  large  oak  sideboard 
covered  with  weapons,  —  "here  is  probably  what   has  led 


THE   SEARCH  FOR  ARMS.  87 

these  people  here.  They  are  going  through  the  country, 
latterly,  on  every  side,  in  search  of  arms.  I  believe  this  is 
almost  the  only  house  where  they  have  not  called." 

'*And  do  they  go  away  quietly  when  their  demands  are 
complied  with?" 

"Yes,  when  they  chance  upon  people  of  poor  courage 
they  leave  them  with  life  enough  to  tell  the  story.  —  What 
is  it,  Mathew?"  asked  she  of  the  old  serving- man  who 
entered  the  room. 

"It 's  the  '  boys,'  miss,  and  they  want  to  talk  to  you,  if 
you  '11  step  out  on  the  terrace.  They  don't  mean  any  harm 
at  all." 

"What  do  they  want,  then?  " 

"Just  a  spare  gun  or  two,  miss,  or  an  ould  pistol,  or  a 
thing  of  the  kind  that  was  no  use." 

"Was  it  not  brave  of  them  to  come  here  when  my  father 
was  from  home?  Are  n't  they  fine  courageous  creatures  to 
come  and  frighten  two  lone  girls,  —  eh.  Mat?  " 

"Don't  anger  them,  miss,  for  the  love  of  Joseph!  Don't 
say  anything  hard;  let  me  hand'  them  that  ould  carbine 
there,  and  the  fowling-piece;  and  if  you'd  give  them  a 
pair  of  horse-pistols,  I'm  sure  they'd  go  away  quiet." 

A  loud  noise  of  knocking,  as  though  with  a  stone,  at  the 
outer  door,  broke  in  upon  the  colloquy,  and  Kate  passed 
into  the  drawing-room,  and  opened  the  window,  out  upon 
the  stone  terrace  which  overlooked  the  yard.  "Who  is 
there?  —  who  are  you?  —  what  do  you  want?"  cried  she, 
peering  down  into  the  darkness,  which  in  the  shadow  of  the 
house  was  deeper. 

"We  've  come  for  arms,"  cried  a  deep  hoarse  voice. 

"  My  father  is  away  from  home ;  come  and  ask  for  them 
when  he  's  here  to  answer  you." 

A  wild,  insolent  laugh  from  below  acknowledged  what 
they  thought  of  this  speech. 

"Maybe  that  was  the  rayson  we  came  now,  miss,"  said 
a  voice,  in  a  lighter  tone. 

"  Fine  courageous  fellows  you  are  to  say  so ;  I  hope  Ire- 
land has  more  of  such  brave  patriotic  men." 

"You'd  better  leave  that,  anyhow,"  said  another;  and 
as  he  spoke  he  levelled  and  fired,  but  evidently  with  inten» 


88  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

tion  to  terrify  rather  than  wound,  for  the  plaster  came  tum- 
bling down  from  several  feet  above  her  head ;  and  now  the 
knocking  at  the  door  was  redoubled,  and  with  a  noise  that 
resounded  through  the  house. 

"Would  n't  you  advise  her  to  give  up  the  arms  and  let 
them  go?"  said  Nina,  in  a  whisper  to  Walpole;  but  though 
she  was  deadly  pale,  there  was  no  tremor  in  her  voice. 

"The  door  is  giving  way,  the  wood  is  completely  rotten. 
Now  for  the  stairs.  Mr.  Walpole,  you  're  going  to  stand 
by  me  ?  " 

*'  I  should  think  so,  but  I  'd  rather  you  'd  remain  here.  I 
know  my  ground  now." 

"No,  I  must  be  beside  you.  You'll  have  to  keep  a 
rolling  fire,  and  I  can  load  quicker  than  most  people  — 
come  along  now,  we  must  take  no  light  with  us  —  follow 
me." 

"Take  care,"  said  Nina  to  Walpole,  as  he  passed,  but 
with  an  accent  so  full  of  a  strange  significance  it  dwelt  on 
his  memory  long  after. 

"What  was  it  Nina  whispered  you,  as  you  came  by?" 
said  Kate. 

"  Something  about  being  cautious,  I  think,"  said  he,  care- 
lessly. 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  Mathew,"  said  the  girl,  in  a  severe 
tone,  to  the  old  servant,  who  was  oflSciously  pressing  forward 
with  a  light. 

"Go  back!"  cried  she,  as  he  persisted  in  following 
her. 

"  That's  the  worst  of  all  our  troubles  here,  Mr.  Walpole," 
said  she,  boldly ;  '*  you  cannot  depend  on  the  people  of  your 
own  household.  The  very  people  you  have  nursed  in  sick- 
ness, if  they  only  belong  to  some  secret  association  will 
betray  you  !  "  She  made  no  secret  of  her  words,  but  spoke 
them  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  group  of  servants  now 
gathered  on  the  landing.  Noiseless  she  tripped  down  the 
stairs,  and  passed  into  the  little  dark  alcove,  followed  by 
Walpole,  carrying  any  amount  of  guns  and  carbines  under 
his  arm. 

"  These  are  loaded,  I  presume?  "  said  he. 

"All,  and  ready  capped.     The  short  carbine  is  charged 


THE   SEARCH  FOR  ARMS.  89 

with  a  sort  of  canister  shot,  and  keep  it  for  a  short  range  — 
if  they  try  to  pass  over  the  iron  gate.  Now  mind  me,  and 
I  will  give  you  the  directions  I  heard  my  father  give  on  this 
spot  once  before.  Don't  fire  till  they  reach  the  foot  of  the 
stair." 

"  I  cannot  hear  you,"  said  he ;  for  the  din  beneath,  where 
they  battered  at  the  door,  was  now  deafening. 

"  They'll  be  in  in  another  moment  —  there,  the  lock  has 
fallen  off  —  the  door  has  given  way,"  whispered  she;  ''be 
steady  now,  no  hurry  —  steady  and  calm." 

As  she  spoke,  the  heavy  oak  door  fell  to  the  ground,  and 
a  perfect  silence  succeeded  to  the  late  din.  After  an  instant 
muttering  whispers  could  be  heard,  and  it  seemed  as  if  they 
doubted  how  far  it  was  safe  to  enter,  for  all  was  dark  within. 
Something  was  said  in  a  tone  of  command,  and  at  the  mo- 
ment one  of  the  part}^  flung  forward  a  bundle  of  lighted 
straw  and  tow,  which  fell  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  for 
a  few  seconds  lit  up  the  place  with  a  red  lurid  gleam,  show- 
ing the  steep  stair  and  the  iron  bars  of  the  little  gate  that 
crossed  it. 

"  There 's  the  iron  wicket  they  spoke  of,"  cried  one.  "  All 
right,  come  on !  "  And  the  speaker  led  the  way,  cautiously, 
however,  and  slowly,  the  others  after  him. 

"No,  not  yet,"  whispered  Kate,  as  she  pressed  her  hahd 
upon  Walpole's. 

"I  hear  voices  up  there,"  cried  the  leader  from  below. 
''  We  '11  make  them  leave  that,  anyhow."  And  he  fired  off 
his  gun  in  the  direction  of  the  upper  part  of  the  stair ;  a 
quantity  of  plaster  came  clattering  down  as  the  ball  struck 
the  ceiling. 

"  Now,"  said  she.     "  Now,  and  fire  low!  " 

He  discharged  both  barrels  so  rapidly  that  the  two  deto- 
nations blended  into  one,  and  the  assailants  replied  by  a 
volley,  the  echoing  din  almost  sounding  like  artillery.  Fast 
as  Walpole  could  fire,  the  girl  replaced  the  piece  by  another ; 
when  suddenly  she  cried,  "  There  is  a  fellow  at  the  gate  — 
the  carbine  —  the  carbine  now,  and  steady."  A  heavy  crash 
and  a  cry  followed  his  discharge,  and  snatching  the  weapon 
from  him,  she  reloaded  and  handed  it  back  with  lightning 
speed.     *'  There  is  another  there,"  whispered  she  ;  and  Wal- 


90  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

pole  moved  further  out,  to  take  a  steadier  aim.  All  was 
still ;  not  a  sound  to  be  heard  for  some  seconds,  when  the 
hinges  of  the  gate  creaked  and  the  bolt  shook  in  the  lock. 
Walpole  fired  again,  but  as  he  did  so,  the  others  poured  in 
a  rattling  volley,  one  shot  grazing  his  cheek,  and  another 
smashing  both  bones  of  his  right  arm,  so  that  the  carbine 
fell  powerless  from  his  hand.  The  intrepid  girl  sprang  to 
his  side  at  once,  and  then  passing  in  front  of  him,  she  fired 
some  shots  from  a  revolver  in  quick  succession.  A  low, 
confused  sound  of  feet,  and  a  scuflfling  noise  followed,  when 
a  rough,  hoarse  voice  cried  out,  ' '  Stop  firing ;  we  are 
wounded,  and  going  away." 

''  Are  you  badly  hurt?  "  whispered  Kate  to  Walpole. 

''  Nothing  serious  :  be  still  and  listen  !  " 

"  There,  the  carbine  is  ready  again.  Oh,  you  cannot 
hold  it  —  leave  it  to  me,"  said  she. 

From  the  difl3culty  of  removal,  it  seemed  as  though  one 
of  the  party  beneath  was  either  killed  or  badly  wounded, 
for  it  was  several  minutes  before  they  could  gain  the  outer 
door. 

"  Are  they  really  retiring?"  whispered  Walpole. 

"Yes;    they  seem  to  have  suffered  heavily." 

"Would  you  not  give  them  one  shot  at  parting  —  that 
carbine  is  charged  ?  "   asked  he,  anxiously. 

"Not  for  worlds,"  said  she;  "savage  as  they  are,  it 
would  be  ruin  to  break  faith  with  them." 

"Give  me  a  pistol,  my  left  hand  is  all  right."  Though 
he  tried  to  speak  with  calmness,  the  agony  of  pain  he  was 
suffering  so  overcame  him  that  he  leaned  his  head  down, 
and  rested  it  on  her  shoulder. 

"My  poor,  poor  fellow,"  said  she,  tenderly,  "I  would 
not  for  the  world  that  this  had  happened." 

"They're  gone,  Miss  Kate,  they've  passed  out  at  the 
big  gate,  and  they're  off,"  whispered  old  Mathew,  as  he 
stood  trembling  behind  her. 

"  Here,  call  some  one,  and  help  this  gentleman  up  the 
stairs,  and  get  a  mattress  down  on  the  floor  at  once ;  send 
off  a  messenger,  Sally,  for  Dr.  Tobin.  He  can  take  the 
car  that  came  this  evening,  and  let  him  make  what  haste 
he  can." 


cyC^y^^^iYSi^^n-iS^^A^^-^-^k^z^  ,«!^^^<yi>^/^^2^^>^<{^V^«a^^fe^<l<^ 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


THE   SEARCH  FOR  ARMS.  91 

*'Is  he  wounded?"  said  Nina,  as  they  laid  him  down 
on  the  floor.  Walpole  tried  to  smile  and  say  something, 
but  no  sound  came  forth. 

"My  own  dear,  dear  Cecil,"  whispered  Nina,  as  she 
knelt  and  kissed  his  hand;  ''tell  me  it  is  not  dangerous." 
He  had  fainted. 


CHAPTER  XL 

WHAT   THE    PAPERS    SAID    OF    IT. 

The  wounded  man  had  just  fallen  into  a  first  sleep  after 
his  disaster,  when  the  press  of  the  capital  was  already 
proclaiming  throughout  the  land  the  attack  and  search  for 
arms  at  Kilgobbin  Castle.  In  the  national  papers  a  very 
few  lines  were  devoted  to  the  event ;  indeed  their  tone  was 
one  of  party  sneer  at  the  importance  given  by  their  con- 
temporaries to  a  very  ordinary  incident.  "  Is  there,"  asked 
the  ''  Convicted  Felon,"  "anything  very  strange  or  new  in 
the  fact  that  Irishmen  have  determined  to  be  armed?  Is 
English  legislation  in  this  country  so  marked  by  justice, 
clemency,  and  generosity  that  the  people  of  Ireland  prefer  to 
submit  their  lives  and  fortunes  to  its  sway,  to  trusting  what 
brave  men  alone  trust  in,  —  their  fearlessness  and  their  dar- 
ing? What  is  there,  then,  so  remarkable  in  the  repairing  to 
Mr.  Kearney's  house  for  a  loan  of  those  weapons  of  which 
his  family  for  several  generations  have  forgotten  the  use  ?  " 
In  the  Government  journals  the  story  of  the  attack  was 
headed,  ''Attack  on  Kilgobbin  Castle.  Heroic  resistance 
by  a  young  lady ;  "  in  which  Kate  Kearney's  conduct  was 
described  in  colors  of  extravagant  eulogy.  She  was  alter- 
nately Joan  of  Arc  and  the  Maid  of  Saragossa,  and  it  was 
gravely  discussed  whether  any  and  what  honors  of  the 
Crown  were  at  her  Majesty's  disposal  to  reward  such  bril- 
liant heroism.  In  another  print  of  the  same  stamp  the 
narrative  began:  "The  disastrous  condition  of  our  coun- 
try is  never  displayed  in  darker  colors  than  when  the  totally 
unprovoked  character  of  some  outrage  has  to  be  recorded 
by  the  press.  It  is  our  melancholy  task  to  present  such  a 
case  as  this  to  our  readers  to-day.     If  it  was  our  wish  to 


WHAT   THE  PAPERS  SAID   OF  IT.  93 

exhibit  to  a  stranger  the  picture  of  an  Irish  estate  in  which 
all  the  blessings  of  good  management,  intelligence,  kindli- 
ness, and  Christian  charity  were  displayed ;  to  show  him 
a  property  where  the  well-being  of  landlord  and  tenant  were 
inextricably  united,  where  the  condition  of  the  people,  their 
dress,  their  homes,  their  food,  and  their  daily  comforts 
could  stand  comparison  with  the  most  favored  English 
county,  we  should  point  to  the  Kearney  estate  of  Kilgob- 
bin ;  and  yet  it  is  here,  in  the  very  house  where  his  ances- 
tors have  resided  for  generations,  that  a  most  savage  and 
dastardly  attack  is  made ;  and  if  we  feel  a  sense  of  shame 
in  recording  the  outrage,  we  are  recompensed  by  the  proud 
elation  with  which  we  can  recount  tlie  repulse,  —  the  noble 
and  gallant  achievement  of  an  Irish  girl.  History  has  the 
record  of  more  momentous  feats,  but  we  doubt  that  there 
is  one  in  the  annals  of  any  land  in  which  a  higher  heroism 
was  displayed  than  in  this  splendid  defence  by  Miss  Kear- 
ney." Then  followed  the  story ;  not  one  of  the  papers 
having  any  knowledge  of  Walpole's  presence  on  the  occa- 
sion, or  the  slightest  suspicion  that  she  was  aided  in  any 
way. 

Joe  Atlee  was  busily  engaged  in  conning  over  and  com- 
paring these  somewhat  contradictory  reports,  as  he  sat  at 
his  breakfast,  his  chum  Kearney  being  still  in  bed  and 
asleep  after  a  late  night  at  a  ball.  At  last  there  came  a 
telegraphic  despatch  for  Kearney ;  armed  with  which,  Joe 
entered  the  bedroom  and  woke  him. 

"Here's  something  for  you,  Dick,"  cried  he.  "Are 
you  too  sleepy  to  read  it  ?  " 

"Tear  it  open  and  see  what  it  is,  like  a  good  fellow," 
said  the  other,  indolently. 

"It's  from  your  sister,  —  at  least,  it  is  signed  Kate.  It 
says :  '  There  is  no  cause  for  alarm.  All  is  going  on  well, 
and  papa  will  be  back  this  evening.     I  write  by  this  post.'  " 

"  What  does  all  that  mean?"  cried  Dick,  in  surprise. 

"  The  whole  story  is  in  the  papers.  The  boys  have  taken 
the  opportunity  of  your  father's  absence  from  home  to  make 
a  demand  for  arms  at  your  house,  and  your  sister,  it  seems, 
showed  fight  and  beat  them  off.  They  talk  of  two  fellows 
being  seen  badly  wounded,  but,  of  course,  that  part  of  the 


94  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

story  cannot  be  relied  on;  That  they  got  enough  to  make 
them  beat  a  retreat  is,  however,  certain ;  and  as  they  were 
what  is  called  a  strong  party,  the  feat  of  resisting  them  is 
no  small  glory  for  a  young  lady." 

"  It  was  just  what  Kate  was  certain  to  do.  There's  no 
man  with  a  braver  heart." 

''I  wonder  how  the  beautiful  Greek  behaved?  I  should 
like  greatly  to  hear  what  part  she  took  in  the  defence  of  the 
citadel.  Was  she  fainting  or  in  hysterics,  or  so  overcome 
by  terror  as  to  be  unconscious  ?  " 

''I'll  make  you  any  wager  you  like,  Kate  did  the  whole 
thing  herself.  There  was  a  Whiteboy  attack  to  force  the 
stairs  when  she  was  a  child,  and  I  suppose  we  rehearsed  that 
combat  fully  fifty  —  ay,  five  hundred  times.  Kate  always 
took  the  defence,  and  though  we  were  sometimes  four  to  one, 
she  kept  us  back." 

"By  Jove!  I  think  I  should  be  afraid  of  such  a  young 
lady." 

"  So  you  would.  She  has  more  pluck  in  her  heart  than 
half  that  blessed  province  you  come  from.  That 's  the  blood 
of  the  old  stock  you  are  often  pleased  to  sneer  at,  and  of 
which  the  present  will  be  a  lesson  to  teach  you  better." 

"May  not  the  lovely  Greek  be  descended  from  some 
ancient  stock,  too?  Who  is  to  say  what  blood  of  Pericles 
she  has  not  in  her  veins  ?  I  tell  you  I  '11  not  give  up  the 
notion  that  she  was  a  sharer  in  this  glory." 

"If  you've  got  the  papers  with  the  account,  let  me  see 
them,  Joe.  I've  half  a  mind  to  run  down  by  the  night-mail, 
—  that  is,  if  I  can.     Have  you  got  any  tin,  Atlee?  " 

"There  were  some  shillings  in  one  of  my  pockets  last 
night.     How  much  do  you  want?  " 

"  Eighteen-and-six  first  class,  and  a  few  shillings  for  a 
cab." 

"  I  can  manage  that ;  but  I  '11  go  and  fetch  you  the  papers, 
there's  time  enough  to  talk  of  the  journey." 

The  newsman  had  just  deposited  the  "Croppy"  on  the 
table  as  Joe  returned  to  the  breakfast-table,  and  the  story  of 
Kilgobbin  headed  the  first  column  in  large  capitals.  ' '  While 
our  contemporaries,"  it  began,  "are  recounting  with  more 
than  their  wonted  eloquence  the  injuries  inflicted  on  three 


WHAT  THE  PAPERS   SAID   OF  IT.  95 

poor  laboring- men,  who,  in  their  ignorance  of  the  locality, 
had  the  temerity  to  ask  for  alms  at  Kilgobbin  Castle  yester- 
day evening,  and  were  ignominiously  driven  away  from  the 
door  by  a  young  lady,  whose  benevolence  was  administered 
through  a  blunderbuss,  we,  who  form  no  portion  of  the  polite 
press,  and  have  no  pretension  to  mix  in  what  are  euphuisti- 
cally  called  the  '  best  circles'  of  this  capital,  would  like  to 
ask,  for  the  information  of  those  humble  classes  among 
which  our  readers  are  found,  is  it  the  custom  for  young 
ladies  to  await  the  absence  of  their  fathers  to  entertam 
young  gentlemen  tourists?  and  is  a  reputation  for  even 
heroic  courage  not  somewhat  dearly  purchased  at  the  price 
of  the  companionship  of  the  admittedly  most  profligate  man 
of  a  vicious  and  corrupt  society  ?  The  herome  who  defended 
Kilgobbin  can  reply  to  our  query." 

Joe  Atlee  read  this  paragraph  three  times  over  before  he 
carried  in  the  paper  to  Kearney. 

"Here's  an  insolent  paragraph,  Dick,"  he  cried,  as  he 
threw  the  paper  to  him  on  the  bed.  "Of  course,  it's  a 
thing  cannot  be  noticed  in  any  way,  but  it's  not  the  less 
rascally  for  that. " 

"You  know  the  fellow  who  edits  this  paper,  Joe?"  said 
Kearney,  trembling  with  passion. 

"  No  ;  my  friend  is  doing  his  bit  of  oakum  at  Kilmainham. 
They  gave  him  thirteen  months,  and  a  fine  that  he  '11  never 
be  able  to  pay ;  but  what  would  you  do  if  the  fellow  who 
wrote  it  were  in  the  next  room  at  this  moment?  " 

"Thrash  him  within  an  inch  of  his  life." 

"And,  with  the  inch  of  life  left  him,  he'd  get  strong 
again  and  write  at  you  and  all  belonging  to  you  every  day 
of  his  existence.  Don't  you  see  that  all  this  license  is  one 
of  the  prices  of  liberty  ?  There  's  no  guarding  against  ex- 
cesses when  you  establish  a  rivalry.  The  doctors  could  tell 
you  how  many  diseased  lungs  and  aneurisms  are  made  by 
training  for  a  rowing-match." 

"I  '11  go  down  by  the  mail  to-night  and  see  what  has  given 
the  origin  to  this  scandalous  falsehood." 

"There's  no  harm  in  doing  that,  especially  if  you  take 
me  with  you." 

"  Why  should  I  take  you,  or  for  what?" 


96  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  As  guide,  counsellor,  and  friend," 

"  Bright  thought,  when  all  the  money  we  can  muster 
between  us  is  only  enough  for  one  fare." 

"  Doubtless,  first  class;  but  we  could  go  third  class,  two 
of  us  for  the  same  money.  Do  you  imagine  that  Damon  and 
Pythias  would  have  been  separated  if  it  came  even  to  travel- 
ling in  a  cow  compartment?" 

''  I  wish  you  could  see  that  there  are  circumstances  in  life 
where  the  comic  man  is  out  of  place." 

' '  I  trust  I  shall  never  discover  them  5  at  least,  so  long  as 
fate  treats  me  with  '  heavy  tragedy.' " 

"I'm  not  exactly  sure  either,  whether  they'd  like  to 
receive  you  just  now  at  Kilgobbin." 

"Inhospitable  thought!  My  heart  assures  me  of  a  most 
cordial  welcome." 

"  And  I  should  only  stay  a  day  or  two  at  farthest." 

"  Which  would  suit  me  to  perfection.  I  must  be  back 
here  by  Tuesday  if  I  had  to  walk  the  distance." 

"  Not  at  all  improbable,  so  far  as  I  know  of  your 
resources." 

"  What  a  churlish  dog  it  is !  Now  had  you.  Master  Dick, 
proposed  to  me  that  we  should  go  down  and  pass  a  week  at 
a  certain  small  thatched  cottage  on  the  banks  of  the  Ban, 
where  a  Presbyterian  minister  with  eight  olive  branches 
vegetates,  discussing  tough  mutton  and  tougher  theology  on 
Sundays,  and  getting  through  the  rest  of  the  week  with  the 
parables  and  potatoes,   I  'd  have  said,  Done !  " 

"  It  w^as  the  inopportune  time  I  was  thinking  of.  Who 
knows  what  confusion  this  event  may  not  have  thrown 
them  into?  If  you  like  to  risk  the  discomfort,  I  make  no 
objection." 

"To  so  heartily  expressed  an  invitation  there  can  be  but 
one  answer,  I  yield." 

"Now  look  here,  Joe,  I  'd  better  be  frank  with  you  ;  don't 
try  it  on  at  Kilgobbin  as  you  do  with  me." 

"  You  are  afraid  of  my  insinuating  manners,  are  you?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  of  your  confounded  impudence,  and  of  that 
notion  you  cannot  get  rid  of,  that  your  cool  familiarity  is  a 
fashionable  tone." 

"  How  men  mistake  themselves !     I  pledge  you  my  word, 


WHAT  THE  PAPERS   SAID  OF  IT.  97 

if  I  was  asked  what  was  the  great  blemish  in  my  manner, 
I'd  have  said  it  was  bashfulness." 

''Well,  then,  it  is  not!  " 

*'  Are  you  sure,  Dick,  are  you  quite  sure?" 

''  I  am  quite  sure,  aud  unfortunately  for  you,  you'll  find 
that  the  majority  agree  with  me." 

"  '  A  wise  man  should  guard  himself  against  the  defects 
that  he  might  have,  without  knowing  it.'  That  is  a  Persian 
proverb,  which  you  will  find  in  '  Hafiz.'  I  believe  you  never 
read  '  Hafiz  ' !  " 

*'  No,  nor  you  either." 

'' That's  true ;  but  I  can  make  my  own  '  Hafiz,'  and  just 
as  good  as  the  real  article.  By  the  way,  are  you  aware  that 
the  water-carriers  at  Tehran  sing  '  Lalla  Rookh,'  and  believe 
it  a  national  poem?" 

''  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care." 

*'  I'll  bring  down  an  '  Anacreon '  with  me,  and  see  if  the 
Greek  cousin  can  spell  her  way  through  an  ode." 

''And  I  distinctly  declare  you  shall  do  no  such  thing." 

"  Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  what  an  unamiable  trait  is  envy  !  By 
the  way,  was  that  your  frock-coat  I  wore  yesterday  at  the 
races  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  know  it  was ;  at  least  you  remembered  it 
when  you  tore  the  sleeve." 

"True,  most  true;  that  torn  sleeve  was  the  reason  the 
rascal  would  only  let  me  have  fifteen  shillings  on  it." 

"  And  you  mean  to  say  you  pawned  my  coat?  " 

"  I  left  it  in  the  temporary  care  of  a  relative,  Dick ;  but  it 
is  a  redeemable  mortgage,  and  don't  fret  about  it." 

"Ever  the  same!  " 

' '  No,  Dick,  that  means  worse  and  worse !  Now,  I  am  in 
the  process  of  reformation.  The  natural  selection,  however, 
where  honesty  is  in  the  series,  is  a  slow  proceeding,  and  the 
organic  changes  are  very  complicated.  As  I  know,  however, 
you  attach  value  to  the  effect  you  produce  in  that  coat,  I  '11 
go  and  recover  it.  I  shall  not  need  Terence  or  Juvenal  till 
we  come  back,  and  I  '11  leave  them  in  the  avuncular  hands 
till  then." 

"  I  wonder  you  're  not  ashamed  of  these  miserable  straits.  " 

"I  am  very  much  ashamed  of  the  world   that  imposes 

7 


98  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

them  on  me.  I  'm  thoroughly  ashamed  of  that  public  in 
lacquered  leather  that  sees  me  walking  in  broken  boots.  I  'm 
heartily  ashamed  of  that  well-fed,  well-dressed,  sleek  society, 
that  never  so  much  as  asked  whether  the  intellectual-looking 
man  in  the  shabby  hat,  who  looked  so  lovingly  at  the  spiced 
beef  in  the  window,  had  dined  yet,  or  was  he  fasting  for  a 
wager  ?  " 

*'  There,  don't  carry  away  that  newspaper ;  I  want  to  read 
over  that  pleasant  paragraph  again !  " 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  COUNTRY. 

The  two  friends  were  deposited  at  the  Moate  station  at  a 
few  minutes  after  midnight,  and  their  available  resources 
amounting  to  something  short  of  two  shillings,  and  the  fare 
of  a  car  and  horse  to  Kilgobbin  being  more  than  three  times 
that  amount,  they  decided  to  devote  their  small  balance  to 
purposes  of  refreshment,  and  then  set  out  for  the  castle  on 
foot. 

''  It  is  a  fine  moonlight;  I  know  all  the  short  cuts,  and  1 
want  a  bit  of  walking  besides,"  said  Kearney;  and  though 
Joe  was  of  a  self-indulgent  temperament,  and  would  like  to 
have  gone  to  bed  after  his  supper  and  trusted  to  the  chapter 
of  accidents  to  reach  Kilgobbin  by  a  conveyance  some  time, 
any  time,  he  had  to  yield  his  consent  and  set  out  on  the 
road. 

'*  The  fellow  who  comes  with  the  letter-bag  will  fetch  over 
our  portmanteau,"  said  Dick,  as  they  started. 

"•  I  wish  you'd  give  him  directions  to  take  charge  of  me, 
too,"  said  Joe,  who  felt  very  indisposed  to  a  long  walk. 

*' I  like  ^/ou,''  said  Dick,  sneeringly;  "you  are  always 
telling  me  that  you  are  the  sort  of  fellow  for  a  new  colony, 
life  in  the  bush,  and  the  rest  of  it,  and  when  it  comes  to  a 
question  of  a  few  miles'  tramp  on  a  bright  night  in  June, 
you  try  to  skulk  it  in  every  possible  way.  You  're  a  great 
humbug,  Master  Joe." 

' '  And  you  a  very  small  humbug,  and  there  lies  the  differ- 
ence between  us.  The  combinations  in  your  mind  are  so 
few,  that,  as  in  a  game  of  only  three  cards,  there  is  no  skill 
in  the  playing ;  while  in  my  nature,  as  in  that  game  called 
tarocco,  there  are  half  a  dozen  packs  mixed  up  together, 
and  the  address  required  to  play  them  is  considerable." 


100  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  You  have  a  very  satisfactory  estimate  of  your  own 
abilities,  Joe." 

"  And  why  not?  If  a  clever  fellow  did  n't  know  he  was 
clever,  the  opinion  of  the  world  on  his  superiority  would 
probably  turn  his  brain." 

"  And  what  do  you  say  if  his  own  vanity  should  do  it?  " 

"There  is  really  no  way  of  explaining  to  a  fellow  like 
you  —  " 

' '  What  do  you  mean  by  a  fellow  like  rbe  ?  "  broke  in 
Dick,  somewhat  angrily. 

"  I  mean  this,  that  I  'd  as  soon  set  to  work  to  explain  the 
theory  of  exchequer  bonds  to  an  Esquimau,  as  to  make  an 
unimaginative  man  understand  something  purely  speculative. 
What  you,  and  scores  of  fellows  like  you,  denominate  vanity, 
is  only  another  form  of  hopefulness.  You  and  your  brethren 
—  for  you  are  a  large  family  —  do  not  know  what  it  is  to 
Hope !  that  is,  you  have  no  idea  of  what  it  is  to  build  on  the 
foundation  of  certain  qualities  you  recognize  in  yourself,  and 
to  say  that  '  if  I  can  go  so  far  with  such  a  gift,  such  another 
will  help  me  on  so  much  farther.'  " 

''  1  tell  you  one  thing  I  do  hope,  which  is,  that  the  next 
time  I  set  out  a  twelve  miles'  walk,  1  '11  have  a  companion 
less  imbued  with  self -admiration." 

"  And  you  might  and  might  not  find  him  pleasanter  com- 
pany. Cannot  you  see,  old  fellow,  that  the  very  things  you 
object  to  in  me  are  what  are  wanting  in  you?  They  are,  so 
to  say,  the  complements  of  your  own  temperament." 

''  Have  you  a  cigar?  " 

'*Two  —  take  them  both.  I'd  rather  talk  than  smoke 
just  now." 

"  I  am  almost  sorry  for  it,  though  it  gives  me  the  tobacco." 

'*  Are  we  on  your  father's  property  yet?  " 

"Yes;  part  of  that  village  we  came  through  belongs  to 
us,  and  all  this  bog  here  is  ours." 

"Why  don't  you  reclaim  it?  Labor  costs  a  mere  nothing 
in  this  country.  Why  don't  you  drain  those  tracts,  and  treat 
the  soil  with  lime  ?  I  'd  live  on  potatoes,  I  'd  make  my  family 
live  on  potatoes,  and  my  son,  and  my  grandson,  for  three 
generations,  but  I  'd  win  this  land  back  to  culture  and 
productiveness." 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  THE   COUNTRY.  101 

"  The  fee-simple  of  the  soil  would  n't  pay  the  cost.  It 
would  be  cheaper  to  save  the  money  and  buy  an  estate." 

"That  is  one,  and  a  very  narrow  view  of  it;  but  imagine 
the  glory  of  restoring  a  lost  tract  to  a  nation,  welcoming 
back  the  prodigal,  and  installing  him  in  his  place  amongst 
his  brethren.  This  was  all  forest  once.  Under  the  shade  of 
the  mighty  oaks  here  those  gallant  O'Caharneys  your  ances- 
tors followed  the  chase,  or  rested  at  noontide,  or  skedaddled 
in  double-quick  before  those  smart  English  of  the  Pale,  who 
I  must  say  treated  your  forbears  with  scant  courtesy." 

*'  We  held  our  own  against  them  for  many  a  year." 

"  Only  when  it  became  so  small  it  was  not  worth  taking. 
Is  not  your  father  a  Whig  ?  " 

*'He's  a  Liberal,  but  he  troubles  himself  little  about 
parties." 

"  He  's  a  stout  Catholic,  though,  is  n't  he?  " 

"  He  is  a  very  devout  believer  in  his  Church,"  said  Dick, 
with  the  tone  of  one  who  did  not  desire  to  continue  the 
theme. 

' '  Then  why  does  he  stop  at  Whiggery  ?  why  not  go  in  for 
nationalism  and  all  the  rest  of  it?" 

"  And  what's  all  the  rest  of  it?  " 

"Great  Ireland,  —  no  first  flower  of  the  earth  or  gem  of 
the  sea  humbug,  —  but  Ireland  great  in  prosperity,  her  har- 
bors full  of  ships,"  the  woollen  trade,  her  ancient  staple, 
revived :  all  that  vast  unused  water-power,  greater  than  all 
the  steam  of  Manchester  and  Birmingham  tenfold,  at  full 
work  ;  the  linen  manufacture  developed  and  promoted  —  " 

''  And  the  Union  repealed  ?  " 

"  Of  course ;  that  should  be  first  of  all.  Not  that  I  object 
to  the  Union,  as  many  do,  on  the  grounds  of  English  igno- 
rance as  to  Ireland.  My  dislike  is,  that,  for  the  sake  of 
carrying  through  certain  measures  necessary  to  Irish  interests, 
I  must  sit  and  discuss  questions  which  have  no  possible  con- 
cern for  me,  and  touch  me  no  more  than  the  debates  in  the 
Cortes,  or  the  Reichskammer  at  Vienna.  What  do  you  or  I 
care  for  who  rules  India,  or  who  owns  Turkey?  What 
interest  of  mine  is  it  whether  Great  Britain  has  five  iron- 
clads or  fifty,  or  whether  the  Yankees  take  Canada,  and  the 
Russians  Caboul  ?  " 


102  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  You  're  a  Fenian,  and  I  am  not." 

"  I  suppose  you  'd  call  yourself  an  Englishman?  " 

''I  am  an  English  subject,  and  I  owe  my  allegiance  to 
England." 

"Perhaps,  for  that  matter,  I  owe  some  too;  but  I  owe 
a  great  many  things  that  I  don't  distress  myself  about 
paying." 

"  Whatever  your  sentiments  are  on  these  matters,  — and, 
Joe,  I  am  not  disposed  to  think  you  have  any  very  fixed 
ones,  —  pray  do  me  the  favor  to  keep  them  to  yourself  while 
under  my  father's  roof.  I  can  almost  promise  you  he  '11  ob- 
trude none  of  his  peculiar  opinions  on  you,  and  1  hope  you 
will  treat  him  with  a  like  delicacy. " 

''What  will  your  folks  talk,  then?  I  can't  suppose  they 
care  for  books,  art,  or  the  drama.  There  is  no  society,  so 
there  can  be  no  gossip.  If  that  yonder  be  the  cabin  of  one 
of  your  tenants,  I  '11  certainly  not  start  the  question  of 
farming." 

"  There  are  poor  on  every  estate,"  said  Dick,  curtly. 

"  Now,  what  sort  of  a  rent  does  that  fellow  pay,  — five 
pounds  a  year  ?  " 

"  More  likely  five-and-twenty  or  thirty  shillings." 

"By  Jove,  I'd  like  to  set  up  house  in  that  fashion,  and 
make  love  to  some  delicately  nurtured  miss,  win  her  affec- 
tions, and  bring  her  home  to  such  a  sp'ot.  Would  n't  that 
be  a  touchstone  of  affection,  Dick  ?  " 

"  If  I  could  believe  you  were  in  earnest,  I  'd  throw  you 
neck  and  heels  into  that  bog-hole." 

"Oh,  if  you  would!  "  cried  he,  and  there  was  a  ring  of 
truthfulness  in  his  voice  now  there  could  be  no  mistaking. 

Half  ashamed  of  the  emotion  his  idle  speech  had  called  up, 
and  uncertain  how  best  to  treat  the  emergency,  Kearney  said 
nothing,  and  Atlee  walked  on  for  miles  without  a  word. 

"  You  can  see  the  house  now.  It  tops  the  trees  yonder,'* 
said  Dick. 

"  That  is  Kilgobbin  Castle,  then?  "  said  Joe,  slowly. 

"There's  not  much  of  castle  left  about  it.  There  is  a 
square  block  of  a  tower,  and  you  can  trace  the  moat  and 
some  remains  of  outworks." 

"  Shall  I  make  you  a  confession,  Dick?     I  envy  you  all 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  COUNTRY.       103 

that !     I  envy  you  what  smacks  of  a  race,  a  name,  an  ances- 
try, a  lineage.     It 's  a  great  thing  to  be  able  to  '  take  up  the! 
running,'  as  the  folks  say,  instead  of  making  all  the  race! 
yourself;    and  there's  one  inestimable  advantage   in  it,  it; 
rescues  you  from  all  indecent  haste  about  asserting  your 
station.     You  feel  yourself  to  be  a  somebody  and  you  've 
not  hurried  to  proclaim  it.     There  now,  my  boy,  if  you  'd 
have  said  only  half  as  much  as  that  on  the  score  of  your ; 
family,  I  'd  have  called  you  an  arrant  snob.     So  much  for ' 
consistency." 

*'  What  you  have  said  gave  me  pleasure,  I'll  own  that." 

*'  I  suppose  it  was  you  planted  those  trees  there.  It  was 
a  nice  thought,  and  makes  the  transition  from  the  bleak  bog 
to  the  cultivated  land  more  easy  and  graceful.  Now  I  see 
the  castle  well.  It 's  a  fine  portly  mass  against  the  morning 
sky,  and  I  perceive  you  fly  a  flag  over  it." 

"  When  the  Lord  is  at  home." 

"  Ay,  and  by  tlie  way,  do  you  give  him  his  title  while  talk- 
ing to  him  here  ?  " 

''  The  tenants  do,  and  the  neighbors  and  strangers  do  as 
they  please  about  it." 

'^  Does  he  like  it  himself?  " 

"If  I  was  to  guess,  I  should  perhaps  say  he  does  like  it. 
Here  we  are  now.  Inside  this  low  gate  you  are  within  the 
demesne,  and  I  may  bid  you  welcome  to  Kilgobbin.  We 
shall  build  a  lodge  here  one  of  these  days.  There 's  a 
good  stretch,  however,  yet  to  the  castle.  We  call  it  two 
miles,  and  it's  not  far  short  of  it." 

"  What  a  glorious  morning!  There  is  an  ecstasy  in 
scenting  these  nice  fresh  woods  in  the  clear  sunrise,  and 
seeing  those  modest  daffodils  make  their  morning  toilet." 

"That's  a  fancy  of  Kate's.  There  is  a  border  of  such 
wild-flowers  all  the  way  to  the  house." 

"  And  those  rills  of  clear  water  that  flank  the  road,  are 
they  of  her  designing  ?  " 

"  That  they  are.  There  was  a  cutting  made  for  a  rail- 
road line  about  four  miles  from  this,  and  they  came  upon  a 
sort  of  pudding-stone  formation,  made  up  chiefly  of  white 
pebbles.  Kate  heard  of  it,  purchased  the  whole  mass,  and 
had  these  channels  paved  with  them  from  the  gate  to  the 


104  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

castle,   and   that's   the   reason   this   water   has   its   crystal 
cl^ness." 

"  She's  worthy  of  Shakspeare's  sweet  epithet,  the  'dain- 
tiest Kate  in  Christendom.'  Here  's  her  health !  "  and  he 
stopped  down,  and  filling  his  palm  with  the  running  water, 
drank  it  off. 

'I  see  it's  not  yet  five  o'clock.  We'll  steal  quietly 
off  to  bed,  and  have  three  or  four  hours  sleep  before  we 
show  ourselves." 


m 


< 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


A   SICK-ROOM. 


Cecil  Walpole  occupied  the  state  room  and  the  state  bed 
at  Kilgobbin  Castle ;  but  the  pain  of  a  very  serious  wound 
had  left  him  very  little  faculty  to  know  what  honor  was 
rendered  him,  or  of  what  watchful  solicitude  he  was  the 
object.  The  fever  brought  on  by  his  wound  had  obliter- 
ated in  his  mind  all  memory  of  where  he  was ;  and  it  was 
only  now  —  that  is,  on  the  same  morning  that  the  young 
men  had  arrived  at  the  castle  —  that  he  was  able  to  con- 
verse without  much  difficulty,  and  enjoy  the  companionship 
of  Lockwood,  who  had  come  over  to  see  him  and  scarcely 
quitted  his  bedside  since  the  disaster. 

"It  seems  going  on  all  right,"  said  Lockwood,  as  he 
lifted  the  iced  cloths  to  look  at  the  smashed  limb,  which 
lay  swollen  and  livid  on  a  pillow  outside  the  clothes. 

"  It 's  not  pretty  to  look  at,  Harry ;  but  the  doctor  says 
'we  shall  save  it,*  —  his  phrase  for  not  cutting  it  off." 

"  They  've  taken  up  two  fellows  on  suspicion,  and  I 
believe  they  were  of  the  party  here  that  night." 

*'  I  don't  much  care  about  that.  It  was  a  fair  fight,  and 
I  suspect  I  did  not  get  the  worst  of  it.  What  really  does 
grieve  me  is  to  think  how  ingloriously  one  gets  a  wound 
that  in  real  war  would  have  been  a  title  of  honor." 

"  If  I  had  to  give  a  V.  C.  for  this  affair,  it  would  be  to 
that  fine  girl  I  'd  give  it,  and  not  to  you,  Cecil." 

*'  So  should  I.  There  is  no  question  whatever  as  to  our 
respective  shares  in  the  achievement." 

"And  she  is  so  modest  and  unaffected  about  it  all,  and 
when  she  was  showing  me  the  position  and  the  alcove,  she 
never  ceased  to  lay  stress  on  the  safety  she  enjoyed  dur- 
ing the  conflict." 


106  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

''Then  she  said  nothing  about  standing  in  front  of  me 
after  I  was  wounded?" 

"  Not  a  word.  She  said  a  great  deal  about  your  coolness 
and  indifference  to  danger,  but  nothing  about  her  own." 

"Well,  I  suppose  it's  almost  a  shame  to  own  it,  — not 
that  I  could  have  done  anything  to  prevent  it,  —  but  she 
did  step  down  one  step  of  the  stair  and  actually  cover  me 
from  fire." 

"She's  the  finest  girl  in  Europe,"  said  Lockwood, 
warmly. 

"And  if  it  was  not  the  contrast  with  her  cousin,  I'd 
almost  say  one  of  the  handsomest,"  said  Cecil. 

"The  Greek  is  splendid,  I  admit  that,  though  she'll 
not  speak  —  she'll  scarcely  notice  me." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  I  can't  imagine,  except  it  might  have  been  an  awk- 
ward speech  I  made  when  we  were  talking  over  the  row. 
I  said,  'Where  were  you?  w^hat  were  you  doing  all  this 
time?'  " 

"And  what  answer  did  she   make  you?" 

"None;  not  a  word.  She  drew  herself  proudly  up,  and 
opened  her  eyes  so  large  and  full  upon  me  that  I  felt  I  must 
have  appeared  some  sort  of  monster  to  be  so  stared  at." 

"I've  seen  her  do  that." 

"  It  was  very  grand  and  very  beautiful ;  but  I  '11  be  shot 
if  I  'd  like  to  stand  under  it  again.  From  that  time  to  this 
she  has  never  deigned  me  more  than  a  mere  salutation." 

"And  are  you  good  friends  with  the  other  girl?" 

"The  best  in  the  world.  I  don't  see  much  of  her,  for 
she  's  always  abroad,  over  the  farm  or  among  the  tenants : 
but  when  we  meet  we  are  very  cordial  and  friendly." 

"And  the  father,  what  is  he  like?" 

"  My  Lord  is  a  glorious  old  fellow,  full  of  hospitable  plans 
and  pleasant  projects;  but  terribly  distressed  to  think  that 
this  unlucky  incident  should  prejudice  you  against  Ireland. 
Indeed,  he  gave  me  to  understand  that  there  must  have 
been  some  mistake  or  misconception  in  the  matter,  for  the 
castle  had  never  been  attacked  before;  and  he  insists  on 
saying  that  if  you  will  stop  here  —  I  think  he  said  ten  years 
—  you  '11  not  see  another  such  occurrence." 


A   SICK-ROOM.  107 

"It 's  rather  a  hard  way  to  test  the  problem,  though." 

"What's  more,  he  included  me  in  the  experiment." 

"And  this  title?  Does  he  assume  it,  or  expect  it  to  be 
recognized?" 

"I  can  scarcely  tell  you.  The  Greek  girl  '  my  Lords  * 
him  occasionally;  his  daughter,  never.  The  servants 
always  do  so ;  and  I  take  it  that  people  use  their  own  dis- 
cretion about  it." 

"Or  do  it  in  a  sort  of  indolent  courtesy,  as  they  call 
Marsala  sherry,  but  take  care  at  the  same  time  to  pass 
the  decanter.    I  believe  you  telegraphed  to  his  Excellency  ?  " 

"Yes;  and  he  means  to  come  over  next  week." 

"Any  news  of  Lady  Maude?  " 

"Only  that  she  comes  with  him;  and  I  'm  sorry  for  it." 

"So  am  I, — deuced  sorry!  In  a  gossiping  town  like 
Dublin  there  will  be  surely  some  story  afloat  about  these 
handsome  girls  here.  She  saw  the  Greek,  too,  at  the  Duke 
of  Rigati's  ball  at  Rome,  and  she  never  forgets  a  name  or  a 
face.     A  pleasant  trait  in  a  wife !  " 

"Of  course  the  best  plan  will  be  to  get  removed,  and  be 
safely  installed  in  our  old  quarters  at  the  castle  before  they 
arrive." 

"We  must  hear  what  the  doctor  says." 

"He  '11  say  no,  naturally,  for  he  '11  not  like  to  lose  his 
patient.  He  will  have  to  convej^  you  to  town,  and  we  'II 
try  and  make  him  believe  it  will  be  the  making  of  him. 
Don't  you  agree  with  me,  Cecil,  it 's  the  thing  to  do?  " 

"I  have  not  thought  it  over  yet.  I  will  to-day.  By  the 
way,  I  know  it's  the  thing  to  do,"  repeated  he,  with  an  air 
of  determination.  "There  will  be  all  manner  of  reports, 
scandals,  and  falsehoods  to  no  end  about  this  business  here ; 
and  when  Lady  Maude  learns,  as  she  is  sure  to  learn,  that 
the  '  Greek  girl '  is  in  the  story,  I  cannot  measure  the  mis- 
chief that  may  come  of  it." 

"Break  off  the  match,  eh?" 

"That  is  certainly  '  on  the  cards.' " 

"I  suspect  even  that  wouldn't  break  your  heart." 

"I  don't  say  it  would;  but  it  would  prove  very  inconven- 
ient in  many  ways.  Danesbury  has  great  claims  on  his 
party.     He  came  here  as  Viceroy,  dead  against  his  will; 


108  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

and,  depend  upon  it,  he  made  his  terms.  Then  if  these 
people  go  out,  and  the  Tories  want  to  outbid  them,  Danes- 
bury  could  take  —  ay,  and  would  take  —  office  under  them." 

'M  cannot  follow  all  that.  All  I  know  is,  I  like  the  old 
boy  himself,  though  he  is  a  bit  pompous  now  and  then, 
and  fancies  he's  Emperor  of  Russia." 

''I  wish  his  niece  did  n't  imagine  she  was  an  Imperial 
princess." 

"That  she  does!  I  think  she  is  the  haughtiest  girl  I  ever 
met.     To  be  sure,  she  was  a  great  beauty. " 

'')Fas,  Harry!  What  do  you  mean  by  'was'?  Lady 
Maude  is  not  eight-and-twenty." 

"Ain't  she,  though?  Will  you  have  a  ten-pound  note  on 
it  that  she's  not  over  thirty-one;  and  1  can  tell  you  who 
could  decide  the  wager?" 

"A  delicate  thought!  —  a  fellow  betting  on  the  age  of  the 
girl  he  's  going  to  marry!  " 

"Ten  o'clock!  —  nearly  half-past  ten!  "  said  Lockwood, 
rising  from  his  chair.  "I  must  go  and  have  some  breakfast. 
I  meant  to  have  been  down  in  time  to-day,  and  breakfasted 
with  the  old  fellow  and  his  daughter;  for  coming  late  brings 
me  to  a  tete-a-tete  with  the  Greek  damsel,  and  it  is  n't  jolly, 
I  assure  you." 

"Don't  you  speak?" 

"Never  a  word!  She's  generally  reading  a  newspaper 
when  I  go  in.  She  lays  it  down ;  but  after  remarking  that 
she  fears  I  '11  find  the  coffee  cold,  she  goes  on  with  her 
breakfast,  kisses  her  Maltese  terrier,  asks  him  a  few  ques- 
tions about  his  health,  apd  whether  he  would  like  to  be  in  a 
warmer  climate,  and  then  sails  away. " 

"And  how  she  walks!  " 

"  Is  she  bored  here  ?  " 

"She  says  not." 

"She  can  scarcely  like  these  people;  they  're  not  the  sort 
of  thing  she  has  ever  been  used  to. " 

"She  tells  me  she  likes  them;  they  certainly  like  her." 

"Well,"  said  Lockwood,  with  a  sigh,  "she's  the  most 
beautiful  woman,  certainly,  I've  ever  seen;  and,  at  this 
moment,  I  'd  rather  eat  a  crust  with  a  glass  of  beer  under  a 
hedge  than  I  'd  go  down  and  sit  at  breakfast  with  her." 


A  SICK-ROOM.  109 

"I  '11  be  shot  if  I  '11  not  tell  her  that  speech  the  first  day 
I  'm  down  again." 

"So  you  may;  for  by  that  time  I  shall  have  seen  her  for 
the  last  time."  And  with  this  he  strolled  out  of  the  room 
and  down  the  stairs  towards  the  breakfast-parlor. 

As  he  stood  at  the  door,  he  heard  the  sound  of  voices 
laughing  and  talking  pleasantly.  He  entered,  and  Nina 
arose  as  he  came  forward,  and  said,  "Let  me  present  my 
cousin,  —  Mr.  Richard  Kearney,  Major  Lockwood ;  his 
friend,  Mr.  Atlee." 

The  two  young  men  stood  up,  —  Kearney  stiff  and  haughty, 
and  Atlee  with  a  sort  of  easy  assurance  that  seemed  to 
suit  his  good-looking  but  certainly  snobbish  style.  As  for 
Lockwood,  he  was  too  much  a  gentleman  to  have  more  than 
one  manner,  and  he  received  these  two  men  as  he  would 
have  received  any  other  two  of  any  rank  anywhere. 

"These  gentlemen  have  been  showing  me  some  strange 
versions  of  our  little  incident  here  in  the  Dublin  papers," 
said  Nina  to  Lockwood.  "I  scarcely  thought  we  should 
become  so  famous." 

"I  suppose  they  don't  stickle  much  for  truth,"  said  Lock- 
wood,  as  he  broke  his  egg,  in  leisurely  fashion. 

"They  were  scarcely  able  to  provide  a  special  corre- 
spondent for  the  event,"  said  Atlee;  "but  I  take  it  they 
give  the  main  facts  pretty  accurately  and  fairly." 

"Indeed!"  said  Lockwood,  more  struck  by  the  manner 
than  by  the  words  of  the  speaker.  "They  mention,  then, 
that  my  friend  received  a  bad  fracture  of  the  forearm." 

"No,  I  don't  think  they  do;  at  least,  so  far  as  I  have 
seen.  They  speak  of  a  night  attack  on  Kilgobbin  Castle, 
made  by  an  armed  party  of  six  or  seven  men  with  faces 
blackened,  and  their  complete  repulse  through  the  heroic 
conduct  of  a  young  lady." 

"The  main  facts,  then,  include  no  mention  of  poor  Wal- 
pole  and  his  misfortune?  " 

"I  don't  think  that  we  mere  Irish  attach  any  great 
importance  to  a  broken  arm,  whether  it  came  of  a  cricket- 
ball  or  gun ;  but  we  do  interest  ourselves  deeply  when  an 
Irish  girl  displays  feats  of  heroism  and  courage  that  men 
find  it  hard  to  rival." 


110  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

'*It  was  very  fine,"  said  Lockwood,  gravely. 

*'Fine!  I  should  think  it  was  fine!"  burst  out  Atlee. 
"It  was  so  fine  that,  had  the  deed  been  done  on  the  other 
side  of  this  narrow  sea,  the  nation  would  not  have  been 
satisfied  till  your  Poet  Laureate  had  commemorated  it  in 
verse." 

"Have  they  discovered  any  traces  of  the  fellows?"  said 
Lockwood,  who  declined  to  follow  the  discussion  into  this 
channel. 

"My  father  has  gone  over  to  Moate  to-day,"  said  Kear- 
ney, now  speaking  for  the  first  time,  "to  hear  the  examina- 
tion of  two  fellows  who  have  been  taken  up  on  suspicion." 

"You  have  plenty  of  this  sort  of  thing  in  your  country," 
said  Atlee  to  Nina. 

"Where  do  you  mean  when  you  say  my  country?  " 

"I  mean  Greece." 

"But  I  have  not  seen  Greece  since  I  was  a  child,  so  high; 
I  have  lived  always  in  Italy." 

"Well,  Italy  has  Calabria  and  the  Terra  del  Lavoro." 

"And  how  much  do  we  in  Rome  know  about  either?  " 

"About  as  much,"  said  Lockwood,  "as  Belgravia  does  of 
the  Bog  of  Allen." 

"You  '11  return  to  your  friends  in  civilized  life  with 
almost  the  fame  of  an  African  traveller,  Major  Lockwood," 
said  Atlee,  pertly. 

"If  Africa  can  boast  such  hospitality,  I  certainly  rather 
envy  than  compassionate  Dr.  Livingstone,"  said  he, 
politely. 

"Somebody,"  said  Kearney,  dryly,  "calls  hospitality  the 
breeding  of  the  savage." 

"But  I  deny  that  we  are  savage,"  cried  Atlee.  "I  con- 
tend for  it  that  all  our  civilization  is  higher,  and  that  class 
for  class  we  are  in  a  more  advanced  culture  than  the  Eng- 
lish; that  your  chawbacon  is  not  as  intelligent  a  being  as 
our  bogtrotter;  that  your  petty  shopkeeper  is  inferior  to 
ours;  that  throughout  our  middle  classes  there  is  not  only 
a  higher  morality  but  a  higher  refinement  than  with  you." 

"I  read  in  one  of  the  most  accredited  journals  of  England 
the  other  day  that  Ireland  had  never  produced  a  poet,  could 
not  even  show  a  second-rate  humorist,"  said  Kearney. 


A  SICK-ROOM.  Ill 

"Swift  and  Sterne  were  third-rate,  or,  perhaps,  English," 
said  Atlee. 

"These  are  themes  I'll  not  attempt  to  discuss,"  said 
Lockwood;  "but  I  know  one  thing,  it  takes  three  times 
as  much  military  force  to  govern  the  smaller  island." 

"That  is  to  say,  to  govern  the  country  after  your  fashion; 
but  leave  it  to  ourselves.  Pack  your  portmanteaus  and  go 
away,  and  then  see  if  we  '11  need  this  parade  of  horse,  foot, 
and  dragoons ;  these  batteries  of  guns  and  these  brigades  of 
peelers." 

"You  'd  be  the  first  to  beg  us  to  come  back  again." 

"Doubtless,  as  the  Greeks  are  begging  the  Turks.  Eh, 
Mademoiselle;  can  you  fancy  throwing  yourself  at  the  feet 
of  a  Pasha  and  asking  leave  to  be  his  slave?  " 

"The  only  Greek  slave  I  ever  heard  of,"  said  Lockwood, 
"was  in  marble  and  made  by  an  American." 

"Come  into  the  drawing-room  and  I'll  sing  you  some- 
thing," said  Nina,  rising. 

"Which  will  be  far  nicer  and  pleasanter  than  all  this  dis- 
cussion," said  Joe. 

"And  if  you  '11  permit  me,"  said  Lockwood,  "we  '11  leave 
the  drawing-room  door  open  and  let  poor  Walpole  hear  the 
music." 

"Would  it  not  be  better  first  to  see  if  he  's  asleep?  "  said 
she. 

"That's  true.     I  '11  step  up  and  see." 

Lockwood  hurried  away;  and  Joe  Atlee,  leaning  back  in 
his  chair,  said,  "Well,  we  gave  the  Saxon  a  canter,  I 
think.  As  you  know,  Dick,  that  fellow  is  no  end  of  a 
swell." 

"You  know  nothing  about  him,"  said  the  other,  gruflfly. 

"Only  so  much  as  newspapers  could  tell  me.  He  's  Mas- 
ter of  the  Horse  in  the  Viceroy's  household,  and  the  other 
fellow  is  Private  Secretary,  and  some  connection  besides. 
I  say,  Dick,  it 's  all  King  James's  times  back  again.  There 
has  not  been  so  much  grandeur  here  for  six  or  eight  gener- 
ations." 

"There  has  not  been  a  more  absurd  speech  made  than 
that,  within  the  time." 

"And  he  is  really  somebody?  "  said  Nina  to  Atlee. 


112  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"A  gran  signore  davvero^"  said  he,  pompously.  "If  you 
don't  sing  your  very  best  for  him,  I  '11  swear  you  are  a 
republican." 

"Come,  take  my  arm,  Nina.  I  may  call  you  Nina,  may 
I  not?"  whispered  Kearney. 

"Certainly,  if  I  may  call  you  Joe." 

"You  may,  if  you  like,"  said  he,  roughly;  "but  my  name 
is  Dick." 

"I  am  Beppo,  and  very  much  at  your  orders,"  said  Atlee, 
stepping  forward  and  leading  her  away. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AT   DINNER. 

They  were  assembled  in  the  drawing-room  before  dinner, 
when  Lord  Kilgobbin  arrived,  heated,  dusty,  and  tired  after 
his  twelve-miles'  drive.  *'I  say,  girls,"  said  he,  putting 
his  head  inside  the  door,  "is  it  true  that  our  distinguished 
guest  is  not  coming  down  to  dinner;  for,  if  so,  1  '11  not 
wait  to  dress?" 

"No,  papa;  he  said  he'd  stay  with  Mr.  Walpole. 
They  've  been  receiving  and  despatching  telegrams  all  day, 
and  seem  to  have  the  whole  world  on  their  hands,"  said 
Kate. 

''Well,  sir,  what  did  you  do  at  the  sessions?  " 

"Yes,  my  Lord,"  broke  in  Nina,  eager  to  show  her  more 
mindful  regard  to  his  rank  than  Atlee  displayed;  "tell  us 
your  news." 

"  I  suspect  we  have  got  two  of  them,  and  are  on  the  traces 
of  the  others.  They  are  Louth  men,  and  were  sent  special 
here  to  give  me  a  lesson,  as  they  call  it.  That 's  what  our 
blessed  newspapers  have  brought  us  to.  Some  idle  vaga- 
bond, at  his  wits'  end  for  an  article,  fastens  on  some 
unlucky  country  gentleman,  neither  much  better  nor  worse 
than  his  neighbors,  holds  him  up  to  public  reprobation, 
perfectly  sure  that  within  a  week's  time  some  rascal  who 
owes  him  a  grudge  —  the  fellow  he  has  evicted  for  non- 
payment of  rent,  the  blackguard  he  prosecuted  for  perjury, 
or  some  other  of  the  like  stamp  —  will  write  a  piteous  letter 
to  the  editor,  relating  his  wrongs.  The  next  act  of  the 
drama  is  a  notice  on  the  hall-door,  with  a  coffin  at  the  top; 
and  the  piece  closes  with  a  charge  of  slugs  in  your  body,  as 
you  are  on  your  road  to  Mass.     Now,  if  I  had  the  making 

8 


114  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

of  the  laws,  the  first  fellow  I  'd  lay  hands  on  would  be  the 
newspaper  writer.     Eh,  Master  Atlee,  am  I  right?  " 

"I  go  with  you  to  the  furthest  extent,  my  Lord." 

*'I  vote  we  hang  Joe,  then,"  cried  Dick.  "He  is  the 
only  member  of  the  fraternity  I  have  any  acquaintance 
with." 

"What!  do  you  tell  me  that  you  write  for  the  papers?  " 
asked  my  Lord,  slyly. 

"He's  quizzing,  sir;  he  knows  right  well  I  have  no  gifts 
of  that  sort." 

"Here's  dinner,  papa.  Will  you  give  Nina  your  arm? 
Mr.  Atlee,  you  are  to  take  me." 

"You'll  not  agree  with  me,  Nina,  my  dear,"  said  the  old 
man,  as  he  led  her  along;  "but  I  'm  heartily  glad  we  have 
not  that  great  swell  who  dined  with  us  yesterday." 

"I  do  agree  with  you,  uncle,  — I  dislike  him." 

"Perhaps  I  am  unjust  to  him;  but  I  thought  he  treated 
us  all  with  a  sort  of  bland  pity  that  I  found  very  offensive." 

"Yes;  I  thought  that,  too.  His  manner  seemed  to  say, 
'  I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  but  what  can  be  done  ?  '  " 

"Is  the  other  fellow  —  the  wounded  one  —  as  bad?" 

She  pursed  up  her  lip,  slightly  shrugged  her  shoulders, 
and  then  said,  "There  's  not  a  great  deal  to  choose  between 
them;  but  I  think  I  like  him  better." 

"How  do  you  like  Dick,  eh?"  said  he,  in  a  whisper. 

"Oh,  so  much,"  said  she,  with  one  of  her  half  downcast 
looks,  but  which  never  prevented  her  seeing  what  passed  in 
her  neighbor's  face. 

"Well,  don't  let  him  fall  in  love  with  you^''  said  he,  with 
a  smile,  "for  it  would  be  bad  for  you  both." 

"But  why  should  he?"  said  she,  with  an  air  of  inno- 
cence. 

"Just  because  I  don't  see  how  he  is  to  escape  it. 
What 's  Master  Atlee  saying  to  you,  Kitty?  " 

"He's  giving  me  some  hints  about  horse-breaking,"  said 
she,  quietly. 

"Is  he,  by  George!  Well,  I'd  like  to  see  him  follow 
you  over  that  fallen  timber  in  the  back  lawn.  We  '11  have 
you  out.  Master  Joe,  and  give  you  a  field-day  to-morrow," 
said  the  old  man. 


AT  DINNER.  115 

*'I  vote  we  do,"  cried  Dick;  "unless,  better  still,  we 
could  persuade  Miss  Betty  to  bring  the  dogs  over  and  give 
us  a  cub-hunt." 

"I  want  to  see  a  cub-hunt,"  broke  in  Nina. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  ride  to  hounds,  Cousin  Nina?" 
asked  Dick. 

"  I  should  think  that  any  one  who  has  taken  the  ox-fences 
on  the  Roman  Campagna,  as  I  have,  might  venture  to  face 
your  small  stone- walls  here." 

"That's  plucky,  anyhow;  and  I  hope,  Joe,  it  will  put 
you  on  your  metal  to  show  yourself  worthy  of  your  com- 
panionship. What  is  old  Mathew  looking  so  mysteriously 
about?     What  do  you  want?  " 

The  old  servant  thus  addressed  had  gone  about  the  room 
with  the  air  of  one  not  fully  decided  to  whom  to  speak; 
and  at  last  he  leaned  over  Miss  Kearney's  shoulder,  and 
whispered  a  few  words  in  her  ear.  "Of  course  not,  Mat!  " 
said  she ;  and  then  turning  to  her  father,  —  "  Mat  has  such 
an  opinion  of  my  medical  skill,  he  wants  me  to  see  Mr. 
Walpole,  who,  it  seems,  has  got  up,  and  evidently  increased 
his  pain  by  it." 

"Oh,  but  is  there  no  doctor  near  us?"  asked  Nina, 
eagerly. 

"I'd  go  at  once,"  said  Kate,  frankly,  "but  my  skill  does 
not  extend  to  surgery. " 

"I  have  some  little  knowledge  in  that  way;  I  studied  and 
walked  the  hospitals  for  a  couple  of  years,"  broke  out  Joe. 
"Shall  I  go  up  to  him?" 

"By  all  means,"  cried  several  together;  and  Joe  rose  and 
followed  Mathew  upstairs. 

"Oh,  are  you  a  medical  man?"  cried  Lockwood,  as  the 
other  entered. 

"After  a  fashion,  I  may  say  I  am.  At  least,  I  can  tell 
you  where  my  skill  will  come  to  its  limit,  and  that  is 
something." 

"Look  here,  then;  he  would  insist  on  getting  up,  and  I 
fear  he  has  displaced  the  position  of  the  bones.  You  must 
be  very  gentle,  for  the  pain  is  terrific." 

"No;  there  's  no  great  mischief  done;  the  fractured  parts 
are  in  a  proper  position.    It  is  the  mere  pain  of  disturbance. 


116  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

Cover  it  all  over  with  the  ice  again,  and  "  —  here  he  felt  his 
pulse  —  "let  him  have  some  weak  brandy-and- water." 

"That's  sensible  advice;  I  feel  it.  I  am  shivery  all 
over,"  said  Walpole. 

"I  '11  go  and  make  a  brew  for  you,"  cried  Joe,  "and  you 
shall  have  it  as  hot  as  you  can  drink  it." 

He  had  scarcely  left  the  room  when  he  returned  with  the 
smoking  compound. 

"You  're  such  a  jolly  doctor,"  said  Walpole,  "I  feel  sure 
you  'd  not  refuse  me  a  cigar?  " 

"Certainly  not." 

"Only  think!  that  old  barbarian  who  was  here  this  morn- 
ing said  I  was  to  have  nothing  but  weak  tea  or  iced 
lemonade." 

Lockwood  selected  a  mild-looking  weed,  and  handed  it 
to  his  friend,  and  was  about  to  offer  one  to  Atlee,  when  he 
said,  — 

"But  we  have  taken  you  from  your  dinner;  pray  go  back 
again." 

"No,  we  were  at  dessert.  I'll  stay  here  and  have  a 
smoke,  if  you  will  let  me.     Will  it  bore  you,  though?" 

"On  the  contrary,"  said  Walpole,  "your  company  will  be 
a  great  boon  to  us ;  and  as  for  myself,  you  have  done  me 
good  already." 

"What  would  you  say,  Major  Lockwood,  to  taking  my 
place  belowstairs?  They  are  just  sitting  over  their  wine, 
—  some  very  pleasant  claret;  and  the  young  ladies,  1  per- 
ceive, here,  give  half  an  hour  of  their  company  before  they 
leave  the  dining-room." 

"Here  goes,  then,"  said  Lockwood.  "Now  that  you 
remind  me  of  it,  I  do  want  a  glass  of  wine." 

Lockwood  found  the  party  belowstairs  eagerly  discussing 
Joe  Atlee's  medical  qualifications,  and  doubting  whether, 
if  it  was  a  knowledge  of  civil  engineering  or  marine  gun- 
nery had  been  required,  he  would  not  have  been  equally  ready 
to  offer  himself  for  the  emergency. 

"I  '11  lay  my  life  on  it,  if  the  real  doctor  arrives,  Joe  will 
take  the  lead  in  the  consultation,"  cried  Dick;  "he  is  the 
most  unabashable  villain  in  Europe." 

"Well,  he  has  put  Cecil  all  right,"  said  Lockwood.     "He 


AT  DINNER.  117 

has  settled  the  arm  most  comfortably  on  the  pillow,  the 
pain  is  decreasing  every  moment,  and  by  his  pleasant  and 
jolly  talk  he  is  making  Walpole  even  forget  it  at  times. " 

This  was  exactly  what  Atlee  was  doing.  Watching  care- 
fully the  sick  man's  face,  he  plied  him  with  just  that  amount 
of  amusement  that  he  could  bear  without  fatigue.  He  told 
him  the  absurd  versions  that  had  got  abroad  of  the  incident 
in  the  press;  and  cautiously  feeling  his  way,  went  on  to  tell 
how  Dick  Kearney  had  started  from  town  full  of  the  most 
fiery  intentions  towards  that  visitor  whom  the  newspapers 
called  a  '^ noted  profligate"  of  London  celebrity.  "If  you 
had  not  been  shot  before,  we  were  to  have  managed  it  for 
you  now,"  said  he. 

''Surely  these  fellows  who  wrote  this  had  never  heard 
of  me." 

''Of  course  they  had  not,  further  than  you  were  on  the 
Viceroy's  staff;  but  is  not  that  ample  warranty  for  profli- 
gacy? Besides,  the  real  intention  was  not  to  assail  you, 
but  the  people  here  who  admitted  you."  Thus  talking,  he 
led  Walpole  to  own  that  he  had  no  acquaintanceship  with 
the  Kearneys,  that  a  mere  passing  curiosity  to  see  the  inter- 
esting house  had  provoked  his  request,  to  which  the  answer, 
coming  from  an  old  friend,  led  to  his  visit.  Through  this 
channel  Atlee  drew  him  on  to  the  subject  of  the  Greek  girl 
and  her  parentage.  As  Walpole  sketched  the  society  of 
Rome,  Atlee,  who  had  cultivated  the  gift  of  listening  fully 
as  much  as  that  of  talking,  knew  where  to  seem  interested 
by  the  views  of  life  thrown  out,  and  where  to  show  a  racy 
enjoyment  of  the  little  humoristic  bits  o^  description  which 
the  other  was  rather  proud  of  his  skill  in  deploying;  and 
as  Atlee  always  appeared  so  conversant  with  the  family 
history  of  the  people  they  were  discussing,  Walpole  spoke 
with  unbounded  freedom  and  openness. 

"You  must  have  been  astonished  to  meet  the  '  Titian 
girl '  in  Ireland?  "  said  Joe,  at  last;  for  he  had  caught  up 
the  epithet  dropped  accidentally  in  the  other's  narrative,  and 
kept  it  for  use. 

"Was  I  not!  but  if  my  memory  had  been  clearer,  I 
should  have  remembered  she  had  Irish  connections.  I  had 
heard  of  Lord  Kilgobbin  on  the  other  side  of  the  Alps." 


Ife 


118  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"I  don't  doubt  that  the  title  would  meet  a  readier  accept- 
ance there  than  here." 

"Ah,  you  think  so! "  cried  Walpole.  "What  is  the 
meaning  of  a  rank  that  people  acknowledge  or  deny  at 
pleasure?     Is  this  peculiar  to  Ireland?  " 

"  If  you  had  asked  whether  persons  anywhere  else  would 
like  to  maintain  such  a  strange  pretension,  I  might  perhaps 
have  answered  you." 

"For  the  few  minutes  of  his  visit  to  me,  I  liked  him;  he 
seemed  frank,  hearty,  and  genial." 

"I  suppose  he  is,  and  I  suspect  this  folly  of  the  Lordship 
is  no  fancy  of  his  own." 

"Nor  the  daughter's,  then,  I  '11  be  bound?  " 

"No;  the  son,  I  take  it,  has  all  the  ambition  of  the 
house." 

"Do  you  know  them  well?  " 

"No,  I  never  saw  them  till  yesterday.  The  son  and  I 
are  chums;  we  live  together,  and  have  done  so  these  three 
years." 

"You  like  your  visit  here,  however?" 

"Yes.  It 's  rather  good  fun  on  the  whole.  I  was  afraid 
of  the  indoor  life  when  I  was  coming  down;  but  it's 
pleasanter  than  I  looked  for." 

"When  I  asked  you  the  question,  it  was  not  out  of  idle 
curiosity.  I  had  a  strong  personal  interest  in  your  answer. 
In  fact,  it  was  another  way  of  inquiring  whether  it  would 
be  a  great  sacrifice  to  tear  yourself  away  from  this." 

"No,  inasmuch  as  the  tearing-away  process  must  take 
place  in  a  couple  of  days,  —  three  at  farthest." 

"That  makes  what  I  have  to  propose  all  the  easier.  It  is 
a  matter  of  great  urgency  for  me  to  reach  Dublin  at  once. 
This  unlucky  incident  has  been  so  represented  by  the  news- 
papers as  to  give  considerable  uneasiness  to  the  Govern- 
ment, and  they  are  even  threatened  with  a  discussion  on  it 
in  the  House.  Now,  I  'd  start  to-morrow  if  I  thought  I 
could  travel  with  safety.  You  have  so  impressed  me  with 
your  skill,  that,  if  I  dared,  I  'd  ask  you  to  convoy  me  up. 
Of  course  I  mean  as  my  physician." 

"But  I  'm  not  one,  nor  ever  intend  to  be." 

"You  studied,  however?  " 


AT  DINNER.  119 

"As  I  have  done  scores  of  things.  I  know  a  little  bit  of 
criminal  law,  have  done  some  shipbuilding,  rode  haute  ecole 
in  Cooke's  circus,  and,  after  M.  Dumas,  I  am  considered 
the  best  amateur  macaroni-maker  in  Europe." 

"And  which  of  these  careers  do  you  intend  to  abide  by ?  " 

"None;  not  one  of  them.  ' Financing'  is  the  only  pursuit 
that  pays  largely.     I  intend  to  go  in  for  money." 

"I  should  like  to  hear  your  ideas  on  that  subject." 

"So  you  shall,  as  we  travel  up  to  town." 

"You  accept  my  offer  then?  " 

"Of  course  1  do.  I  am  delighted  to  have  so  many  hours 
in  your  company.  I  believe  I  can  safely  say  I  have  that 
amount  of  skill  to  be  of  service  to  you.  One  begins  his 
medical  experience  with  fractures.  They  are  the  pot-hooks 
«ind  hangers  of  surgery,  and  I  have  gone  that  far.  Now, 
what  are  your  plans  ?  " 

"My  plans  are  to  leave  this  early  to-morrow,  so  as  to  rest 
during  the  hot  hours  of  the  day,  and  reach  Dublin  by 
nightfall.     Why  do  you  smile  ?  " 

"I  smile  at  your  notion  of  climate;  but  I  never  knew  any 
man  who  had  been  once  in  Italy  able  to  disabuse  himself 
of  the  idea  that  there  were  three  or  four  hours  every  sum- 
mer day  to  be  passed  with  close  shutters  and  iced  drinks." 

"Well,  I  believe  I  was  thinking  of  a  fiercer  sun  and  a 
hotter  soil  than  these.  To  return  to  my  project;  we  can 
find  means  of- posting,  carriage  and  horses,  in  the  village. 
I  forget  its  name." 

"I'll  take  care  of  all  that.  At  what  hour  will  you 
start?" 

"I  should  say  by  six  or  seven.  I  shall  not  sleep;  and  I 
shall  be  all  impatience  till  we  are  away." 

"Well,  is  there  anything  else  to  be  thought  of?" 

"  There  is,  —  that  is,  I  have  something  on  my  mind,  and 
I  pjn  debating  with  myself  how  far,  on  a  half -hour's 
acquaintance,  I  can  make  you  a  partner  in  it." 

"I  cannot  help  you  by  my  advice.  I  can  only  say  that 
if  you  like  to  trust  me,  I  '11  know  how  to  respect  the 
confidence." 

Walpole  looked  steadily  and  steadfastly  at  him,  and  the 
examination  seemed  to  satisfy  him;    for  he  said,  "I  will 


120  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

trust  you,  —  not  that  the  matter  is  a  secret  in  any  sense 
that  involves  consequences;  but  it  is  a  thing  that  needs  a 
little  tact  and  discretion,  a  slight  exercise  of  a  light  hand, 
which  is  what  my  friend  Lockwood  fails  in.  Now  you  could 
do  it." 

"If  lean,  I  will.     What  is  it?" 

"Well,  the  matter  is  this.  I  have  written  a  few  lines 
here,  very  illegibly  and  badly,  as  you  may  believe,  for  they 
were  with  my  left  hand ;  and  besides  having  the  letter  con- 
veyed to  its  address,  I  need  a  few  words  of  explanation." 

"The  Titian  girl,"  muttered  Joe,  as  though  thinking 
aloud. 

"Why  do  you  say  so?  " 

"Oh,  it  was  easy  enough  to  see  her  greater  anxiety  and 
uneasiness  about  you.  '^here  was  an  actual  flash  of» 
jealousy  across  her  features  when  Miss  Kearney  proposed 
coming  up  to  see  you." 

"And  was  this  remarked,  think  you?  " 

"Only  by  me.  1  saw,  and  let  her  see  I  saw  it,  and  we 
understood  each  other  from  that  moment." 

"I  must  n't  let  you  mistake  me.  You  are  not  to  suppose 
that  there  is  anything  between  Mademoiselle  Kostalergi  and 
myself.  I  knew  a  good  deal  about  her  father,  and  there 
were  family  circumstances  in  which  I  was  once  able  to  be 
of  use;  and  I  wished  to  let  her  know  that  if  at  any  time  she 
desired  to  communicate  with  me  I  could  procure  an  address 
under  which  she  could  write  with  freedom." 

"As  for  instance:  *  J.  Atlee,  48  Old  Square,  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Dublin. '  " 

"Well,  I  did  not  think  of  that  at  the  moment,"  said  Wal- 
pole,  smiling.  "Now,"  continued  he,  "though  I  have 
written  all  this,  it  is  so  blotted  and  disgraceful  generally  — 
done  with  the  left  hand  and  while  in  great  pain  —  that  I 
think  it  would  be  as  well  not  to  send  the  letter,  but  simply 
a  message  —  " 

Atlee  nodded,  and  Walpole  went  on:  "A  message  to  say 
that  I  was  wishing  to  write,  but  unable ;  and  that  if  I  had 
her  permission,  so  soon  as  my  fingers  could  hold  a  pen,  to 
finish  —  yes,  to  finish  that  communication  I  had  already 
begun;  and  if  she  felt  there  was  no  inconvenience  in  writ- 


AT  DINNER.  121 

ing  to  me,  under  cover  to  your  care,  I  should  pledge  my- 
self to  devote  all  my  zeal  and  my  best  services  to  her 
interests." 

''In  fact,  I  am  to  lead  her  to  suppose  she  ought  to  have 
the  most  implicit  confidence  in  you,  and  to  believe  in  me 
because  I  say  so." 

"I  do  not  exactly  see  that  these  are  my  instructions  to 
you." 

"Well,  you  certainly  want  to  write  to  her." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  do." 

"At  all  events,  you  want  her  to  write  to  you.'' 

"You  are  nearer  the  mark  now." 

"That  ought  not  to  be  very  difficult  to  arrange.  I  '11  go 
down  now  and  have  a  cup  of  tea;  and  I  may,  I  hope,  come 
up  and  see  you  again  before  bedtime.'* 

"Wait  one  moment,"  cried  Walpole,  as  the  other  was 
about  to  leave  the  room.  "Do  you  see  a  small  tray  on  that 
table  yonder,  with  some  trinkets?  Yes,  that  is  it.  Well, 
will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  choose  something  amongst 
them  as  your  fee?  Come,  come,  you  know  you  are  my 
doctor  now,  and  I  insist  on  this.  There  's  nothing  of  any 
value  there,  and  you  will  have  no  misgivings." 

"Am  I  to  take  it  haphazard?  "  asked  Atlee. 

"Whatever  you  like,"  said  the  other,  indolently. 

"I  have  selected  a  ring,"  said  Atlee,  as  he  drew  it  on  his 
finger. 

"Not  an  opal?" 

"Yes,  it  is  an  opal  with  brilliants  round  it." 

"I  'd  rather  you  'd  taken  all  the  rest  than  that.  Not  that 
I  ever  wear  it,  but  somehow  it  has  a  bit  of  memory  attached 
to  it!" 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Atlee,  gravely,  "you  are  adding 
immensely  to  the  value  I  desired  to  see  in  it?  I  wanted 
something  as  a  souvenir  of  you,  —  what  the  Germans  call  an 
Andenken  ;  and  here  is  evidently  what  has  some  secret  clew 
to  your  affections.     It  was  not  an  old  love-token  ?  " 

"No;  or  I  should  certainly  not  part  with  it." 

"It  did  not  belong  to  a  friend  now  no  more?  " 

"Nor  that,  either,"  said  he,  smiling  at  the  other's  per- 
sistent curiosity. 


122  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  Then,  if  it  be  neither  the  gift  of  an  old  love  nor  a  lost 
friend,  I  '11  not  relinquish  it,"  cried  Joe. 

"Be  it  so,"  said  Walpole,  half  carelessly.  "Mine  was  a 
mere  caprice,  after  all.  It  is  linked  with  a  reminiscence, 
—  there's  the  whole  of  it;  but  if  you  care  for  it,  pray 
keep  it." 

"I  do  care  for  it,  and  I  will  keep  it." 

It  was  a  very  peculiar  smile  that  curled  Walpole's  lip  as 
he  heard  this  speech;  and  there  was  an  expression  in  his 
eyes  that  seemed  to  say,  "  What  manner  of  man  is  this; 
what  sort  of  nature,  new  and  strange  to  me,  is  he  made 
of?" 

"By-bye!  "  said  Atlee,  carelessly;  and  he  strolled  away. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN    THE    GARDEN   AT   DUSK. 

When  Atlee  quitted  Walpole's  room,  he  was  far  too  full  of 
doubt  and  speculation  to  wish  to  join  the  company  in  the 
drawing-room.  He  had  need  of  time  to  collect  his  thoughts, 
too,  and  arrange  his  plans.  This  sudden  departure  of  his 
would,  he  well  knew,  displease  Kearney.  It  would  savor 
of  a  degree  of  impertinence,  in  treating  their  hospitality  so 
cavalierly,  that  Dick  was  certain  to  resent,  and  not  less 
certain  to  attribute  to  a  tuft-hunting  weakness  on  Atlee' s 
part  of  which  he  had  frequently  declared  he  detected  signs 
in  Joe's  character. 

"Be  it  so.  I  '11  only  say,  you  '11  not  see  me  cultivate 
*  swells  '  for  the  pleasure  of  their  society,  or  even  the  charms 
of  their  cookery.  If  I  turn  them  to  no  better  uses  than  dis- 
play. Master  Dick,  you  may  sneer  freely  at  me.  I  have 
long  wanted  to  make  acquaintance  with  one  of  these  fellows, 
and  luck  has  now  given  me  the  chance.  Let  us  see  if  I 
know  how  to  profit  by  it." 

And,  thus  muttering  to  himself,  he  took  his  way  to  the 
farm-yard,  to  find  a  messenger  to  despatch  to  Kilgobbin  for 
post-horses. 

The  fact  that  he  was  not  the  owner  of  a  half-crown  in  the 
world  very  painfully  impressed  itself  on  a  negotiation 
which,  to  be  prompt,  should  be  prepaid,  and  which  he  was 
endeavoring  to  explain  to  two  or  three  very  idle  but  very 
incredulous  listeners,  not  one  of  whom  could  be  induced  to 
accept  a  ten  miles'  tramp  of  a  drizzling  night  without  the 
prompting  of  a  tip  in  advance. 

"It's  every  step  of  eight  miles,"  cried  one. 

"No;  but  it's  ten,"  asseverated  another  with  energy,  "by 
ray  son  that  you  must  go  by  the  road.  There  's  nobody 
would  venture  across  the  bog  in  the  dark." 


124  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"Wid  five  shillings  in  my  hand  —  " 

"And  five  more  when  ye  come  back,"  continued  another, 
who  was  terrified  at  the  low  estimate  so  rashly  adventured. 

"If  one  had  even  a  shilling  or  two  to  pay  for  a  drink 
when  he  got  in  to  Kilbeggan  wet  through  and  shivering  —  " 

The  speaker  was  not  permitted  to  finish  his  ignominiously 
low  proposal,  and  a  low  growl  of  disapprobation  smothered 
his  words. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  said  Joe,  angrily,  "that 
there  's  not  a  man  here  will  step  over  to  the  town  to  order  a 
chaise  and  post-horses  ?  " 

"And  if  yer  honor  will  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and 
tempt  us  with  a  couple  of  crown  pieces,  there  's  no  saying 
what  we  would  n't  do,"  said  a  little  bandy  old  fellow,  who 
was  washing  his  face  at  the  pump. 

"And  are  crown-pieces  so  plentiful  with  you  down  here 
that  you  can  earn  them  so  easily  ?  "  said  Atlee,  with  a 
sneer. 

"Be  me  sowl,  yer  honor,  it's  thinking  that  the^^'re  not  so 
asy  to  come  at,  makes  us  a  bit  lazy  this  evening !  "  said  a 
ragged  fellow,  with  a  grin,  which  was  quickly  followed  by  a 
hearty  laugh  from  those  around  him. 

Something  that  sounded  like  a  titter  above  his  head  made 
Atlee  look  up ;  and  there,  exactly  over  where  he  stood,  was 
Nina,  leaning  over  a  little  stone  balcony  in  front  of  a  win- 
dow, an  amused  witness  of  the  scene  beneath. 

*'  I  have  two  words  for  yourself,"  cried  he  to  her  in 
Italian.  "Will  you  come  down  to  the  garden  for  one 
moment?" 

"Cannot  the  two  words  be  said  in  the  drawing-room?" 
asked  she,  half  saucily,  in  the  same  language. 

"No;  they  cannot  be  said  in  the  drawing-room,"  con- 
tinued he,  sternly. 

"It's  dropping  rain.     I  should  get  wet." 

"  Take  an  umbrella,  then,  but  come.  Mind  me,  Signora 
Nina,  I  am  the  bearer  of  a  message  for  you." 

There  was  something  almost  disdainful  in  the  toss  of  her 
head  as  she  heard  these  words,  and  she  hastily  retired  from 
the  balcony  and  entered  the  room. 

Atlee  watched  her,  by  no  means  certain  what  her  gesture 


IN  THE  GARDEN  AT  DUSK.  125 

might  portend.  Was  she  iDdignant  with  him  for  the  liberty 
he  had  taken?  or  was  she  about  to  comply  with  his  request, 
and  meet  him  ?  He  knew  too  little  of  her  to  determine  which 
was  the  more  likely ;  and  he  could  not  help  feeling  that,  had 
he  only  known  her  longer,  his  doubt  might  have  been  just  as 
great.  Her  mind,  thought  he,  is  perhaps  like  my  own ;  it 
has  many  turnings,  and  she  's  never  very  certain  which  one 
of  them  she  will  follow.  Somehow,  this  imputed  wilfulness 
gave  her,  to  his  eyes,  a  charm  scarcely  second  to  that  of  her 
exceeding  beauty.  And  what  beauty  it  was !  The  very 
perfection  of  symmetry  in  every  feature  when  at  rest,  while 
the  varied  expressions  of  her  face  as  she  spoke  or  smiled 
or  listened,  imparted  a  fascination  which  only  needed  the 
charm  of  her  low  liquid  voice  to  be  irresistible. 

How  she  vulgarizes  that  pretty  girl,  her  cousin,  by  mere 
contrast!  What  subtle  essence  is  it,  apart  from  hair  and 
eyes  and  skin,  that  spreads  an  atmosphere  of  conquest  over 
these  natures,  and  how  is  it  that  men  have  no  ascendencies 
of  this  sort,  —  nothing  that  imparts  to  their  superiority  the 
sense  that  worship  of  them  is  in  itself  an  ecstasy? 

"  Take  my  message  into  town,"  said  he  to  a  fellow  near, 
"  and  you  shall  have  a  sovereign  when  you  come  back  with 
the  horses ;  "  and  with  this  he  strolled  away  across  a  little 
paddock  and  entered  the  garden.  It  was  a  large,  ill-culti- 
vated space,  more  orchard  than  garden,  with  patches  of 
smooth  turf,  through  which  daffodils  and  lilies  were  scat- 
tered, and  little  clusters  of  carnations  occasionally  showed, 
where  flower-beds  had  once  existed.  "  What  would  I  not 
give,"  thought  Joe,  as  he  strolled  along  the  velvety  sward, 
over  which  a  clear  moonlight  had  painted  the  forms  of  many 
a  straggling  branch,  —  "  what  would  I  not  give  to  be  the  son 
of  a  house  like  this,  with  an  old  and  honored  name,  with  an 
ancestry  strong  enough  to  build  upon  for  future  preten- 
sions, and  then  with  an  old  home,  peaceful,  tranquil,  and 
unmolested :  where,  as  in  such  a  spot  as  this,  one  might 
dream  of  great  things,  perhaps  more,  might  achieve  them ! 
What  books  would  I  not  write !  What  novels,  in  which, 
fashioning  the  hero  out  of  my  own  heart,  I  could  tell  scores 
of  impressions  the  world  had  made  upon  me  in  its  aspect  of 
religion  or  of  politics  or  of  society !     What  essays  could  I 


/' 


126  LORD  KILGOBBIN.      . 

not  compose  here,  —  the  mind  elevated  by  that  buoyauc}^ 
which  comes  of  the  consciousness  of  being  free  for  a  great 
effort!  Free  from  the  vulgar  interruptions  that  cling  to 
poverty  like  a  garment,  free  from  the  paltry  cares  of  daily 
subsistence,  free  from  the  damaging  incidents  of  a  doubtful 
position  and  a  station  that  must  be  continually  asserted. 
That  one  disparagement,  perhaps,  worst  of  all,"  cried  he, 
aloud :  "  how  is  a  man  to  enjoy  his  estate  if  he  is  '  put  upon 
his  title '  every  day  of  the  week  ?  One  might  as  well  be  a 
French  Emperor,  and  go  every  spring  to  the  country  for  a 
character." 

"  What  shocking  indignity  is  this  you  are  dreaming  of?  " 
said  a  very  soft  voice  near  him ;  and  turning  he  saw  Nina, 
who  was  moving  across  the  grass,  with  her  dress  so  draped 
as  to  show  the  most  perfect  instep  and  ankle  with  a  very 
unguarded  indifference. 

"  This  is  very  damp  for  you;  shall  we  not  come  out  into 
the  walk  ?  "  said  he. 

"It  is  very  damp,"  said  she,  quickly;  "but  I  came  be- 
cause you  said  you  had  a  message  for  me:  is  this  true?" 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  deceive  you?  "  said  he,  with  a  sort 
of  tender  reproachfulness. 

"  It  might  not  be  so  very  easy,  if  you  were  to  try," 
replied  she,  laughing. 

"  That  is  not  the  most  gracious  way  to  answer  me." 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe  we  came  here  to  pay  compliments ; 
certainly  I  did  not,  and  my  feet  are  very  wet  already,  —  look 
there  and  see  the  ruin  of  a  '  chaussure '  I  shall  never  replace 
in  this  dear  land  of  coarse  leather  and  hobnails." 

As  she  spoke,  she  showed  her  feet,  around  which  her 
bronzed  shoes  hung  limp  and  misshapen. 

"Would  that  I  could  be  permitted  to  dry  them  with  my 
kisses ! "  said  he,  as,  stooping,  he  wiped  them  with  his  hand- 
kerchief, but  so  deferentially  and  so  respectfully,  as  though 
the  homage  had  been  tendered  to  a  princess.  Nor  did  she 
for  a  moment  hesitate  to  accept  the  service. 

"There,  that  will  do,"  said  she,  haughtily.  "Now  for 
your  message." 

"We  are  going  away.  Mademoiselle,"  said  Atlee,  with  a 
melancholy  tone. 


IN  THE   GARDEN  AT  DUSK.  127 

"  sir?" 

"  By  '  we,'  Mademoiselle,  I  meant  to  convey  Walpole  and 
myself."  And  now  he  spoke  with  the  irritation  of  one  who 
had  felt  a  pull-up. 

''  Ah,  indeed  !  "  said  she,  smiling,  and  showing  her  pearly 
teeth.     *"  We'  meant  Mr.  Walpole  and  Mr.  Atlee." 

''  You  should  never  have  guessed  it?"  cried  he,  in  question. 

"  Never,  —  certainly,"  was  her  cool  rejoinder. 

"Well!  He  was  less  defiant,  or  mistrustful,  or  whatever 
be  the  name  for  it.  We  were  only  friends  of  half  an  hour's 
growth  when  he  proposed  the  journey.  He  asked  me  to 
accompany  him  as  a  favor ;  and  he  did  more.  Mademoiselle : 
he  confided  to  me  a  mission,  —  a  very  delicate  and  confiden- 
tial mission,  —  such  an  oflfice  as  one  does  not  usually  depute 
to  him  of  whose  fidelity  or  good  faith  he  has  a  doubt,  not  to 
speak  of  certain  smaller  qualities,  such  as  tact  and  good 
taste." 

*'0f  whose  possession  Mr.  Atlee  is  now  asserting  him- 
self? "  said  she,  quietly. 

He  grew  crimson  at  a  sarcasm  whose  impassiveness  made 
it  all  the  more  cutting. 

''My  mission  was  in  this  wise,  Mademoiselle,"  said  he, 
with  a  forced  calm  in  his  manner.  "  I  was  to  learn  from 
Mademoiselle  Kostalergi  if  she  should  desire  to  communicate 
with  Mr.  Walpole  touching  certain  family  interests  in  which 
his  counsels  might  be  of  use;  and  in  this  event  I  was  to 
place  at  her  disposal  an  address  by  which  her  letters  should 
reach  him." 

"No,  sir,"  said  she,  quietly,  "you  have  totally  mistaken 
any  instructions  that  were  given  you.  Mr.  Walpole  never 
pretended  that  I  had  written  or  was  likely  to  write  to  him ; 
he  never  said  that  he  was  in  any  way  concerned  in  family 
questions  that  pertained  to  me ;  least  of  all,  did  he  presume 
to  suppose  that  if  I  had  occasion  to  address  him  by  letter,  I 
should  do  so  under  cover  to  another." 

"You  discredit  my  character  of  envoy,  then?"  said  he, 
smiling  easily. 

"  Totally  and  completely,  Mr.  Atlee ;  and  I  only  wait  for 
you  yourself  to  admit  that  I  am  right,  to  hold  out  my  hand 
to  you,  and  say  let  us  be  friends." 


128  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"I'd  perjure  myself  twice  at  such  a  price.  Now  for  the 
hand." 

'^Not  so  fast,  —  first  the  coufession,"  said  she,  with  a 
faint  smile. 

''Well,  on  my  honor,"  cried  he,  seriously,  "he  told  me 
he  hoped  you  might  write  to  him.  I  did  not  clearly  under- 
stand about  what,  but  it  pointed  to  some  matter  in  which  a 
family  interest  was  mixed  up,  and  that  you  might  like  your 
communication  to  have  the  reserve  of  secrecy." 

"All  this  is  but  a  modified  version  of  what  you  were  to 
disavow." 

"  Well,  I  am  only  repeating  it  now  to  show  you  how  far  I 
am  going  to  perjure  myself." 

"That  is,  you  see,  in  fact,  that  Mr.  Walpole  could  never 
have  presumed  to  give  you  such  instructions,  —  that  gentle- 
men do  not  send  such  messages  to  young  ladies, — do  not 
presume  to  say  that  they  dare  do  so ;  and  last  of  all,  if  they 
ever  should  chance  upon  one  whose  nice  tact  and  cleverness 
would  have  fitted  him  to  be  the  bearer  of  such  a  commission, 
those  same  qualities  of  tact  and  cleverness  would  have  saved 
him  from  undertaking  it.  That  is  what  you  see,  Mr.  Atlee, 
is  it  not?  " 

"You  are  right.  I  see  it  all."  And  now  he  seized  her 
hand  and  kissed  it  as  though  he  had  won  the  right  to  that 
rapturous  enjoyment. 

She  drew  her  hand  away,  but  so  slowly  and  so  gently  as 
to  convey  nothing  of  rebuke  or  displeasure.  "  And  so  you 
are  going  away  ?  "  said  she,  softly. 

' '  Yes  ;  Walpole  has  some  pressing  reason  to  be  at  once  in 
Dublin.  He  is  afraid  to  make  the  journey  without  a  doctor ; 
but  rather  than  risk  delay  in  sending  for  one,  he  is  willing 
to  take  me  as  his  body  surgeon,  and  I  have  accepted  the 
charge." 

The  frankness  with  which  he  said  this  seemed  to  influence 
her  in  his  favor,  and  she  said,  with  a  tone  of  like  candor, 
"  You  were  right.  His  family  are  people  of  influence,  and 
will  not  readily  forget  such  a  service." 

Though  he  winced  under  the  words,  and  showed  that  it 
was  not  exactly  the  mode  in  which  he  wanted  his  courtesy 
to  be  regarded,  she  took  no  account  of  the  passing  irrita- 
tion, but  went  on  :  — 


IN  THE   GARDEN   AT  DUSK.  129 

"  If  you  fancy  you  know  something  about  me,  Mr.  Atlee, 
/know  far  more  about  you.  Your  chum,  Dick  Kearney,  has 
been  so  outspoken  as  to  his  friend,  that  my  cousin  Kate  and 
I  have  been  accustomed  to  discuss  you  like  a  near  acquaint- 
ance—  what  am  I  saying?  —  I  mean  like  an  old  friend." 

"  I  am  very  grateful  for  this  interest;  but  will  you  kindly 
say  what  is  the  version  my  friend  Dick  has  given  of  me  ? 
what  are  the  lights  that  have  fallen  upon  my  humble 
character?" 

"  Do  you  fancy  that  either  of  us  have  time  at  this  moment 
to  open  so  large  a  question  ?  Would  not  the  estimate  of  Mr. 
Joseph  Atlee  be  another  mode  of  discussing  the  times  we 
live  in,  and  the  young  gentlemen,  more  or  less  ambitious, 
who  want  to  influence  them  ?  Would  not  the  question  embrace 
everything,  from  the  difficulties  of  Ireland  to  the  puzzling 
embarrassments  of  a  clever  young  man  who  has  everything 
in  his  favor  in  life,  except  the  only  thing  that  makes  life 
worth  living  for?  " 

"  You  mean  fortune,  —  money?  '' 

"Of  course  I  mean  money.  What  is  so  powerless  as 
poverty?  Do  I  not  know  it,  — not  of  yesterday,  or  the  day 
before,  but  for  many  a  long  year?  What  so  helpless,  what 
so  jarring  to  temper,  so  dangerous  to  all  principle,  and  so 
subversive  of  all  dignity?  I  can  afford  to  say  these  things, 
and  you  can  afford  to  hear  them,  for  there  is  a  sort  of 
brotherhood  between  us.  We  claim  the  same  land  for  our 
origin.    Whatever  our  birthplace,  we  are  both  Bohemians  !  " 

She  held  out  her  hand  as  she  spoke,  and  with  such  an  air 
of  cordiality  and  frankness  that  Joe  caught  the  spirit  of  the 
action  at  once,  and,  bending  over,  pressed  his  lips  to  it,  as 
he  said,  "  I  seal  the  bargain." 

''And  swear  to  it?" 

"  I  swear  to  it,"  cried  he. 

"There,  that  is  enough.  Let  us  go  back,  or  rather,  let 
me  go  back  alone.  I  will  tell  them  I  have  seen  you,  and 
heard  of  your  approaching  departure." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE    TWO  "  KEARNEYS." 

A  VISIT  to  his  father  was  not  usually  one  of  those  things  that 
young  Kearney  either  speculated  on  with  pleasure  before- 
hand, or  much  enjoyed  when  it  came.  Certain  measures  of 
decorum,  and  some  still  more  pressing  necessities  of  economy, 
required  that  he  should  pass  some  months  of  every  year  at 
home ;  but  they  were  always  seasons  looked  forward  to  with 
a  mild  terror,  and  when  the  time  drew  nigh,  met  with  a 
species  of  dogged  fierce  resolution  that  certainly  did  not 
serve  to  lighten  the  burden  of  the  infliction;  and  though 
Kate's  experience  of  this  temper  was  not  varied  by  any 
exceptions,  she  would  still  go  on  looking  with  pleasure  for 
the  time  of  his  visit,  and  plotting  innumerable  little  schemes 
for  enjoyment  while  he  should  remain.  The  first  day  or  two 
after  his  arrival  usually  went  over  pleasantly  enough.  Dick 
came  back  full  of  his  town  life,  and  its  amusements ;  and 
Kate  was  quite  satisfied  to  accept  gayety  at  second-hand. 
He  had  so  much  of  balls,  and  picnics,  and  charming  rides 
in  the  Phoenix,  of  garden-parties  in  the  beautiful  environs 
of  Dublin,  or  more  pretentious  entertainments,  that  took 
the  shape  of  excursions  to  Bray  or  Killiney.  She  came 
at  last  to  learn  all  his  friends  and  acquaintances  by  name, 
and  never  confounded  the  stately  beauties  that  he  wor- 
shipped afar  off,  with  the  "awfully  jolly  girls"  whom  he 
flirted  with  quite  irresponsibly.  She  knew,  too,  all  about  his 
male  companions,  from  the  flash  young  fellow-commoner 
from  Downshire,  who  had  a  saddle-horse  and  a  mounted 
groom  waiting  for  him  every  day  after  morning  lecture, 
down  to  that  scampish  Joe  Atlee,  with  whose  scrapes  and 
eccentricities  he  filled  many  an  idle  hour. 

Independently  of  her  gift  as  a  good  listener,  Kate  would 
very  willingly  have  heard  all  Dick's  adventures  and  descrip- 


THE  TWO  "KEARNEYS."  131 

tions  not  only  twice  but  tenth  told ;  just  as  the  child  listens 
with  unwearied  attention  to  the  fairy  tale  whose  end  he  is 
well  aware  of,  but  still  likes  the  little  detail  falling  fresh 
upon  his  ear,  so  would  this  yQung  girl  make  him  go  over 
some  narrative  she  knew  by  heart,  and  would  not  suffer  him 
to  omit  the  slightest  incident  or  most  trifling  circumstance 
that  heightened  the  history  of  the  story. 

As  to  Dick,  however,  the  dull  monotony  of  the  daily  life, 
the  small  and  vulgar  interests  of  the  house  or  the  farm, 
which  formed  the  only  topics,  the  undergrowl  of  economy 
that  ran  through  every  conversation,  as  though  penurious- 
ness  was  the  great  object  of  existence,  —  but,  perhaps  more 
than  all  these  together,  the  early  hours,  —  so  overcame  him 
that  he  at  first  became  low-spirited,  and  then  sulky,  seldom 
appearing  save  at  meal-times,  and  certainly  contributing 
little  to  the  pleasure  of  the  meeting ;  so  that  at  last,  though 
she  might  not  easily  have  been  brought  to  the  confession, 
Kate  Kearney  saw  the  time  of  Dick's  departure  approach 
without  regret,  and  was  actually  glad  to  be  relieved  from 
that  terror  of  a  rupture  between  her  father  and  her  brother 
of  which  not  a  day  passed  without  a  menace. 

Like  all  men  who  aspire  to  something  in  Ireland,  Kearney 
desired  to  see  his  son  a  barrister;  for  great  as  are  the  re- 
wards of  that  high  career,  they  are  not  the  fascinations 
which  appeal  most  strongly  to  the  squirearchy,  who  love  to 
think  that  a  country  gentleman  may  know  a  little  law  and 
be  never  the  richer  for  it,  —  may  have  acquired  a  profes- 
sion, and  yet  never  know  what  was  a  client  or  what  a  fee. 

That  Kearney  of  Kilgobbin  Castle  should  be  reduced  to 
tramping  his  way  down  the  Bachelor's  Walk  to  the  Four 
Courts,  with  a  stuff  bag  carried  behind  him,  was  not  to  be 
thought  of;  but  there  were  so  many  positions  in  life,  so 
many  situations  for  which  that  gifted  creature  the  barrister 
of  six  years'  standing  was  alone  eligible,  that  Kearney  was 
very  anxious  his  son  should  be  qualified  to  accept  that 
£1000  or  £1800  a  year  which  a  gentleman  could  hold  with- 
out any  shadow  upon  his  capacity,  or  the  slightest  reflec- 
tion on  his  industry. 

Dick  Kearney,  however,  had  not  only  been  living  a  very 
gay  life  in  town,  but,  to  avail  himself  of  a  variety  of  those 


132  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

flattering  attentions  which  this  interested  world  bestows  by 
preference  on  men  of  some  pretension,  had  let  it  be  believed 
that  he  was  the  heir  to  a  very  considerable  estate,  and,  by 
great  probability,  also  to  a  title.  To  have  admitted  that 
he  thought  it  necessary  to  follow  any  career  at  all  would 
have  been  to  abdicate  these  pretensions,  and  so  he  evaded 
that  question  of  the  law,  in  all  discussions  with  his  father, 
sometimes  affecting  to  say  he  had  not  made  up  his  mind, 
or  that  he  had  scruples  of  conscience  about  a  barrister's 
calling,  or  that  he  doubted  whether  the  Bar  of  Ireland  was 
not,  like  most  high  institutions,  going  to  be  abolished  by 
Act  of  Parliament,  and  all  the  litigation  of  the  land  be 
done  by  deputy  in  Westminster  Hall. 

On  the  morning  after  the  visitors  took  their  departure 
from  Kilgobbin,  old  Kearney,  who  usually  relapsed  from  any 
exercise  of  hospitality  into  a  more  than  ordinary  amount  of 
parsimony,  sat  thinking  over  the  various  economies  by 
which  the  domestic  budget  could  be  squared,  and  after  a 
very  long  seance  with  old  Gill,  in  which  the  question  of 
raising  some  rents  and  diminishing  certain  bounties  was 
discussed,  he  sent  up  the  steward  to  Mr.  Richard's  room  to 
say  he  wanted  to  speak  to  him. 

Dick  at  the  time  of  the  message  was  stretched  full  length 
on  a  sofa,  smoking  a  meerschaum,  and  speculating  how  it 
was  that  the  "swells"  took  to  Joe  Atlee,  and  what  they  saw 
in  that  confounded  snob,  instead  of  himself.  Having  in  a 
degree  satisfied  himself  that  Atlee's  success  was  all  owing 
to  his  intense  and  outrageous  flattery,  he  was  startled  from 
his  re  very  by  the  servant's  entrance. 

"How  is  he  this  morning,  Tim?"  asked  he,  with  a  know- 
ing look.  "Is  he  fierce?  is  there  anything  up?  have  the 
heifers  been  passing  the  night  in  the  wheat,  or  has  any  one 
come  over  from  Moate  with  a  bill  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  none  of  them;  but  his  blood's  up  about  some- 
thing. Ould  Gill  is  gone  down  the  stair,  swearing  like 
mad,  and  Miss  Kate  is  down  the  road,  with  a  face  like  a 
turkey-cock." 

"I  think  you'd  better  say  I  was  out,  Tim,  — that  you 
couldn't  find  me  in  my  room." 

"I  dare  n't,  sir.     He  saw  that  little  Skye  terrier  of  yours 


THE  TWO   "KEARNEYS."  133 

below,  and  he  said  to  me,  '  Mr.  Dick  is  sure  to  be  at  home ; 
tell  him  I  want  him  immediately.'  " 

''But  if  I  had  a  bad  headache,  and  could  n't  leave  my  bed, 
wouldn't  that  be  excuse  enough?" 

"  It  would  make  him  come  here.  And  if  I  was  you,  sir, 
I  'd  go  where  I  could  get  away  myself,  and  not  where  he 
could  stay  as  long  as  he  liked." 

"There  's  something  in  that.  I  '11  go,  Tim.  Say  I  '11  be 
down  in  a  minute." 

Very  careful  to  attire  himself  in  the  humblest  costume  of 
his  wardrobe,  and  specially  mindful  that  neither  studs  nor 
watch-chain  should  offer  offensive  matter  of  comment,  he 
took  his  way  toward^  the  dreary  little  den,  which,  filled 
with  old  top-boots,  driving-whips,  garden-implements,  and 
fishing-tackle,  was  known  as  "the  Lord's  study,"  but  whose 
sole  literary  ornament  was  a  shelf  of  antiquated  almanacs. 
There  was  a  strange  grimness  about  his  father's  aspect 
which  struck  young  Kearney  as  he  crossed  the  threshold. 
His  face  wore  the  peculiar  sardonic  expression  of  one  who 
had  not  only  hit  upon  an  expedient,  but  achieved  a  surprise, 
as  he  held  an  open  letter  in  one  hand  and  he  motioned  with 
the  other  to  a  seat. 

"  I  've  been  waiting  till  these  people  were  gone,  Dick,  — 
till  we  had  a  quiet  house  of  it,  —  to  say  a  few  words  to  you. 
I  suppose  your  friend  Atlee  is  not  coming  back  here  ?  " 

"I  suppose  not,  sir." 

"I  don't  like  him,  Dick;  and  I  'm  much  mistaken  if  he 
is  a  good  fellow." 

"I  don't  think  he  is  actually  a  bad  fellow,  sir.  He  is 
often  terribly  hard  up,  and  has  to  do  scores  of  shifty 
things ;  but  I  never  found  him  out  in  anything  dishonorable 
or  false." 

"That 's  a  matter  of  taste,  perhaps.  Maybe  you  and  I 
might  differ  about  what  was  honorable  or  what  was  false. 
At  all  events,  he  was  under  our  roof  here ;  and  if  those  nobs 
—  or  swells,  I  believe  you  call  them  —  were  like  to  be  of  use 
to  any  of  us,  we,  the  people  that  were  entertaining  them, 
were  the  first  to  be  thought  of;  but  your  pleasant  friend 
thought  differently,  and  made  such  good  use  of  his  time  that 
he  cut  you  out  altogether,  Dick,  —  he  left  you  nowhere. " 


134  LORD  KTLGOBBIN. 

"Really,  sir,  it  never  occurred  to  me  till  now  to  take  that 
view  of  the  situation." 

"Well,  take  that  view  of  it  now,  and  see  how  you  '11  like 
it!  You  have  your  way  to  work  in  life  as  well  as  Mr. 
Atlee.  From  all  I  can  judge,  you  're  scarcely  as  well  calcu- 
lated to  do  it  as  he  is.  You  have  not  his  smartness,  you 
have  not  his  brains,  and  you  have  not  his  impudence,  —  and, 
faith,  I  'm  much  mistaken  but  it 's  the  best  of  the  three!  " 

"I  don't  perceive,  sir,  that  we  are  necessarily  pitted 
against  each  other  at  all." 

"Don't  you?  Well,  so  much  the  worse  for  you  if  you 
don't  see  that  every  fellow  that  has  nothing  in  the  world  is 
the  rival  of  every  other  fellow  that 's  in  the  same  plight. 
For  every  one  that  swims,  ten,  at  least,  sink." 

"Perhaps,  sir,  to  begin,  I  never  fully  realized  the  first 
condition.  I  was  not  exactly  aware  that  I  was  without 
anything  in  the  world." 

"I  'm  coming  to  that,  if  you  '11  have  a  little  patience. 
Here  is  a  letter  from  Tom  McKeown,  of  Abbey  Street.  I 
wrote  to  him  about  raising  a  few  hundreds  on  mortgage,  to 
clear  off  some  of  our  debts,  and  have  a  trifle  in  hand  for 
drainage  and  to  buy  stock,  and  he  tells  me  that  there  's  no 
use  in  going  to  any  of  the  money-lenders  so  long  as  your 
extravagance  continues  to  be  the  talk  of  the  town.  Ay, 
you  need  n't  grow  red  nor  frown  that  way.  The  letter  was 
a  private  one  to  myself,  and  I  'm  only  telling  it  to  you  in 
confidence.  Hear  what  he  says:  '  You  have  a  right  to 
make  your  son  a  fellow-commoner  if  you  like,  and  he  has 
a  right,  by  his  father's  own  showing,  to  behave  like  a  man 
of  fortune;  but  neither  of  you  have  a  right  to  believe  that 
men  who  advance  money  will  accept  thes€  pretensions  as 
good  security,  or  think  anything  but  the  worse  of  you  both 
for  your  extravagance. '  " 

"And  you  don't  mean  to  horsewhip  him,  sir?"  burst  out 
Dick. 

"Not,  at  any  rate,  till  I  pay  off  two  thousand  pounds 
that  I  owe  him,  and  two  years'  interest  at  six  per  cent, 
that  he  has  suffered  me  to  become  his  debtor  for." 

"Lame  as  he  is,  I  '11  kick  him  before  twenty- four  hours 
are  over." 


THE  TWO   "KEARNEYS.'*  135 

*'If  you  do,  he'll  shoot  you  like  a  dog;  and  it  wouldn't 
be  the  first  time  he  handled  a  pistol.  No,  no,  Master 
Dick.  Whether  for  better  or  worse,  I  can't  tell;  but  the 
world  is  not  what  it  was  when  I  was  your  age.  There  's  no 
provoking  a  man  to  a  duel  nowadays ;  nor  no  posting  him 
when  he  won't  fight.  Whether  it 's  your  fortune  is  damaged 
or  your  feelings  hurt,  you  must  look  to  the  law  to  redress 
you ;  and  to  take  your  cause  into  your  own  hands  is  to  have 
the  whole  world  against  you." 

"And  this  insult  is,  then,  to  be  submitted  to?" 

"It  is,  first  of  all,  to  be  ignored.  It 's  the  same  as  if  you 
never  heard  it.  Just  get  it  out  of  your  head,  and  listen  to 
what  he  says.  Tom  McKeown  is  one  of  the  keenest  fellows 
I  know ;  and  he  has  business  with  men  who  know  not  only 
what's  doing  in  Downing  Street,  but  what's  going  to  be 
done  there.  Now  here  's  two  things  that  are  about  to  take 
place:  one  is  the  same  as  done,  for  it 's  all  ready  prepared, 
—  the  taking  away  the  landlord's  right,  and  making  the 
State  determine  what  rent  the  tenant  shall  pay,  and  how 
long  his  tenure  will  be.  The  second  won't  come  for  two 
sessions  after,  but  it  will  be  law  all  the  same.  There  's  to 
be  no  primogeniture  class  at  all,  no  entail  on  land,  but  a 
subdivision,  like  in  America  and,  I  believe,  in  France." 

"I  don't  believe  it,  sir.  These  would  amount  to  a  revo- 
lution." 

"Well,  and  why  not?  Ain't  we  always  going  through  a 
sort  of  mild  revolution?  What 's  parliamentary  government 
but  revolution,  weakened,  if  you  like,  like  watered  grog; 
but  the  spirit  is  there  all  the  same.  Don't  fancy  that 
because  you  can  give  it  a  hard  name  you  can  destroy  it. 
But  hear  what  Tom  is  coming  to.  '  Be  early,'  says  he; 
'  take  Time  by  the  forelock ;  get  rid  of  your  entail  and  get 
rid  of  your  land.  Don't  wait  till  the  Government  does  both 
for  you,  and  have  to  accept  whatever  condition  the  law  will 
cumber  you  with,  but  be  before  them!  Get  your  son  to 
join  you  in  docking  the  entail ;  petition  before  the  court  for 
a  sale,  yourself  or  somebody  for  you ;  and  wash  your  hands 
clean  of  it  all.  It's  bad  property,  in  a  very  ticklish  coun- 
try, '  says  Tom ;  and  he  dashes  the  words,  — '  bad  property 
in   a   very   ticklish   country ;    and  if   you   take  my  ^vice 


136  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

you  '11  get  clear  of  both. '  You  shall  read  it  all  yourself  by 
and  by ;  I  am  only  giving  you  the  substance  of  it,  and  none 
of  the  reasons." 

"  This  is  a  question  for  very  grave  consideration,  to  say 
the  least  of  it.     It  is  a  bold  proposal." 

"So  it  is,  and  so  says  Tom  himself;  but  he  adds, 
'There  's  no  time  to  be  lost;  for  once  it  gets  about  how 
Gladstone  's  going  to  deal  with  land,  and  what  Bright  has 
"m  his  head  for  eldest  sons,  you  might  as  well'wEistle  as  try 
to  dispose  of  that  property.'  To  be  sure,  he  says,"  added 
nEepafter  a  pause,  —  "he  says,  '  If  you  insist  on  holding  on, 
—  if  you  cling  to  the  dirty  acres  because  they  were  your 
father's  and  your  great-grandfather's,  and  if  you  think  that 
being  Kearney  of  Kilgobbin  is  a  sort  of  title,  in  the  name 
of  God  stay  where  you  are,  but  keep  down  your  expenses. 
Give  up  some  of  your  useless  servants,  reduce  your  saddle- 
horses,' —  my  saddle-horses,  Dick!  'Try  if  you  can  live 
without  fox-hunting. '  Fox-hunting !  '  Make  your  daugh- 
ter know  that  she  needn't  dress  like  a  duchess,'  —  poor 
Kitty  's  very  like  a  duchess ;  '  and,  above  all,  persuade  your 
lazy,  idle,  and  very  self-sufficient  son  to  take  to  some 
respectable  line  of  life  to  gain  his  living.  I  would  n't  say 
that  he  mightn't  be  an  apothecary;  but  if  he  liked  law 
better  than  physic,  I  might  be  able  to  do  something  for  him 
in  my  own  office.'  " 

"Have  you  done,  sir?  "  said  Dick,  hastily,  as  his  father 
wiped  his  spectacles,  and  seemed  to  prepare  for  another 
heat. 

"He  goes  on  to  say  that  he  always  requires  one  hundred 
and  fifty  guineas  fee  with  a  young  man ;  '  but  we  are  old 
friends,  Mathew  Kearney,'  says  he,  'and  we'll  make  it 
pounds.'  " 

"  To  fit  me  to  be  an  attorney !  "  said  Dick,  articulating 
each  word  with  a  slow  and  almost  savage  determination. 

"Faith!  it  would  have  been  well  for  us  if  one  of  the 
family  had  been  an  attorney  before  now.  We  'd  never  have 
gone  into  that  action  about  the  mill  race,  nor  had  to  pay 
those  heavy  damages  for  levelling  Moore's  barn.  A  little 
law  would  have  saved  us  from  evicting  those  blackguards  at 
Mullenalick,  or  kicking  Mr.  Hall's  bailiff  before  witnesses." 


THE  TWO   "KEARNEYS."  137 

To  arrest  his  father's  recollection  of  the  various  occasions 
on  which  his  illegality  had  betrayed  him  into  loss  and  dam- 
age, Dick  blurted  out,  "  I  'd  rather  break  stones  on  the  road 
than  I  M  be  an  attorney." 

"  Well,  you  '11  not  have  to  go  far  for  employment,  for  they 
are  just  laying  down  new  metal  this  moment;  and  you 
need  n't  lose  time  over  it,"  said  Kearney,  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand,  to  show  that  the  audience  was  over  and  the  con- 
ference ended. 

''There  's  just  one  favor  I  would  ask,  sir,"  said  Dick, 
with  his  hand  on  the  lock. 

"You  want  a  hammer,  I  suppose,"  said  his  father,  with 
a  grin,  —  "  is  n't  that  it  ?  " 

With  something  that,  had  it  been  uttered  aloud,  sounded 
very  like  a  bitter  malediction,  Dick  rushed  from  the  room, 
slamming  the  door  violently  after  him  as  he  went. 

"That 's  the  temper  that  helps  a  man  to  get  on  in  life," 
said  the  old  man,  as  he  turned  once  more  to  his  accounts, 
and  set  to  work  to  see  where  he  had  blundered  in  his 
figures. 


CHAPTER   XVTI. 

dick's  re  very. 

When  Dick  Kearney  left  his  father,  he  walked  from  the 
house,  and  not  knowing,  or*  much  caring  in  what  direction 
he  went,  turned  into  the  garden.  It  was  a  wild,  neglected 
sort  of  spot,  more  orchard  than  garden,  with  fruit-trees  of 
great  size,  long  past  bearing,  and  close  underwood  in  places 
that  barred  the  passage.  Here  and  there  little  patches 
of  cultivation  appeared;  sometimes  flowering  plants,  but 
oftener  vegetables.  One  long  alley,  with  tall  hedges  of 
box,  had  been  preserved,  which  led  to  a  little  mound  planted 
with  laurels  and  arbutus,  and  known  as  "Laurel  Hill;  "  here 
a  little  rustic  summer-house  had  once  stood,  and  still, 
though  now  in  ruins,  showed  where,  in  former  days,  people 
came  to  taste  the  fresh  breeze  above  the  tree-tops,  and  enjoy 
the  wide  range  of  a  view  that  stretched  to  the  Slieve-Bloom 
Mountains,  nearly  thirty  miles  away. 

Young  Kearney  reached  this  spot,  and  sat  down  to  gaze 
upon  a  scene  every  detail  of  which  was  well  known  to  him, 
but  of  which  he  was  utterly  unconscious  as  he  looked.  "I 
am  turned  out  to  starve,"  cried  he,  aloud,  as  though  there 
was  a  sense  of  relief  in  thus  proclaiming  his  sorrow  to  the 
winds.  "I  am  told  to  go  and  work  upon  the  roads,  to  live 
by  my  daily  labor.  Treated  like  a  gentleman  until  I  am 
bound  to  that  condition  by  every  tie  of  feeling  and  kindred, 
and  then  bade  to  know  myself  as  an  outcast.  I  have  not 
even  Joe  Atlee's  resource;  I  have  not  imbibed  the  instincts 
of  the  lower  orders  so  as  to  be  able  to  give  them  back  to 
them  in  fiction  or  in  song.  I  cannot  either  idealize  rebellion, 
or  make  treason  tuneful. 

"It  is  not  yet  a  week  since  that  same  Atlee  envied  me  my 
station  as  the  son  and  heir  to  this  place,  and  owned  to  me 
that  there  was  that  in  the  sense  of  name  and  lineage  that 


DICK'S   REVERY.  139 

more  than  balanced  personal  success,  and  here  I  am  now,  a 
beggar!  I  can  enlist,  however,  blessings  on  the  noble 
career  that  ignores  character  and  defies  capacity.  I  don't 
know  that  I  '11  bring  much  loyalty  to  her  Majesty's  cause, 
but  I  '11  lend  her  the  aid  of  as  broad  shoulders  and  tough 
sinews  as  my  neighbors."  And  here  his  voice  grew  louder 
and  harsher,  and  with  a  ring  of  defiance  in  it.  *'And  no 
cutting  off  the  entail,  my  Lord  Kilgobbin !  no  escape  from 
that  cruel  necessity  of  an  heir !  I  may  carry  my  musket  in 
the  ranks,  but  I  '11  not  surrender  my  birthright!  " 

The  thought  that  he  had  at  length  determined  on  the 
path  he  should  follow  aroused  his  courage  and  made  his 
heart  lighter;  and  then  there  was  that  in  the  manner  he  was 
vindicating  his  station  and  his  claim  that  seemed  to  savor 
of  heroism.  He  began  to  fancy  his  comrades  regarding 
him  with  a  certain  deference,  and  treating  him  with  a 
respect  that  recognized  his  condition.  "I  know  the  shame 
my  father  will  feel  when  he  sees  to  what  he  has  driven  me. 
What  an  offence  to  his  love  of  rank  and  station  to  behold 
his  son  in  the  coarse  uniform  of  a  private!  An  only  son, 
and  heir,  too!  I  can  picture  to  myself  his  shock  as  he 
reads  the  letter  in  which  I  shall  say  good-bye,  and  then  turn 
to  tell  my  sister  that  her  brother  is  a  common  soldier,  and 
in  this  way  lost  to  her  forever! 

"And  what  is  it  all  about?  What  terrible  things  have  I 
done?  What  entanglements  have  I  contracted?  Where 
have  I  forged  ?  Whose  name  have  I  stolen  ?  whose  daugh- 
ter seduced?  What  is  laid  to  my  charge,  beyond  that  I 
have  lived  like  a  gentleman,  and  striven  to  eat  and  drink 
and  dress  like  one?  And  I'll  wager  my  life  that  for  one 
who  will  blame  him  there  will  be  ten  —  no,  not  ten,  fifty  — 
to  condemn  me.  I  had  a  kind,  trustful,  affectionate  father, 
restricting  himself  in  scores  of  ways  to  give  me  my  educa- 
tion among  the  highest  class  of  my  contemporaries.  I  was 
largely  supplied  with  means,  indulged  in  every  way,  and 
if  I  turned  my  steps  towards  home,  welcomed  with  love  and 
affection." 

"And  fearfully  spoiled  by  all  the  petting  he  met  with," 
said  a  sofi  voice,  leaning  over  his  shoulder,  while  a  pair  of,^ 
very  liquid  gray  eyes  gazed  into  his  own. 


140  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"What,  Nina!  —  Mademoiselle  Nina,  I  mean,"  said  he; 
"have  you  been  long  there?  " 

"Long  enough  to  hear  you  make  a  very  pitiful  lamenta- 
tion over  a  condition  that  I,  in  my  ignorance,  used  to  believe 
was  only  a  little  short  of  Paradise." 

"You  fancied  that,  did  you?" 

"Yes,  I  did  so  fancy  it." 

"  Might  I  be  bold  enough  to  ask  from  what  circumstance, 
though?  I  entreat  you  to  tell  me  what  belongings  of  mine, 
what  resources  of  luxury  or  pleasure,  what  incident  of  my 
daily  life  suggested  this  impression  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  as  a  matter  of  strict  reasoning,  I  have  little  to 
show  for  my  conviction ;  but  if  you  ask  me  why  I  thought 
as  I  did,  it  was  simply  from  contrasting  your  condition  with 
my  own,  and  seeing  that  in  everything  where  my  lot  has 
gloom  and  darkness,  if  not  worse,  yours,  my  ungrateful 
cousin,  was  all  sunshine." 

"  Let  us  see  a  little  of  this  sunshine.  Cousin  Nina.  Sit 
down  here  beside  me,  and  show  me,  I  pray,  some  of  those 
bright  tints  that  I  am  longing  to  gaze  on." 

"There  's  not  room  for  both  of  us  on  that  bench." 

"Ample  room;  we  shall  sit  the  closer." 

"No,  Cousin  Dick;  give  me  your  arm  and  we  '11  take  a 
stroll  together." 

"Which  way  shall  it  be?" 

"You  shall  choose,  cousin." 

"If  I  have  the  choice,  then,  I'll  carry  you  off,  Nina,  for 
I  'm  thinking  of  bidding  good-bj'e  to  the  old  house  and  all 
within  it." 

"I  don't  think  I'll  consent  that  far,"  said  she,  smiling. 
"I  have  had  my  experience  of  what  it  is  to  be  without  a 
home,  or  something  very  nearly  that.  I  '11  not  willingly 
recall  the  sensation.  But  what  has  put  such  gloomy 
thoughts  in  your  head?  What,  or  rather  who,  is  driving 
you  to  this?" 

"My  father,  Nina,  my  father!  " 

"This  is  past  my  comprehending." 

"I  '11  make  it  very  intelligible.  My  father,  by  way  of 
curbing  my  extravagance,  tells  me  I  must  give  up  all  pre- 
tension to  the  life  of  a  gentleman,  and  go  into  an  office  as 


DICK'S  KEVERY.  141 

a  clerk.  I  refuse.  He  insists,  and  tells  me,  moreover,  a 
number  of  little  pleasant  traits  of  my  unfitness  to  do  any- 
thing, so  that  I  interrupt  him  by  hinting  that  I  might 
possibly  break  stones  on  the  highway.  He  seizes  the 
project  with  avidity,  and  offers  to  supply  me  with  a  hammer 
for  my  work.  All  fact,  on  my  honor!  I  am  neither  adding 
to  nor  concealing.  I  am  relating  what  occurred  little  more 
than  an  hour  ago,  and  I  have  forgotten  nothing  of  the  inter- 
view. He,  as  I  said,  offers  to  give  me  a  stone-hammer. 
And  now  I  ask  you,  is  it  for  me  to  accept  this  generous 
offer,  or  would  it  be  better  to  wander  over  that  bog  yonder, 
and  take  my  chance  of  a  deep  pool,  or  the  bleak  world  where 
immersion  and  death  are  just  as  sure,  though  a  little  slower 
in  coming?  " 

"Have  you  told  Kate  of  this?  " 

"No,  I  have  not  seen  her.  I  don't  know  if  I  had  seen 
her  that  I  should  have  told  her.  Kate  has  so  grown  to 
believe  all  my  father's  caprices  to  be  absolute  wisdom  that 
even  his  sudden  gusts  of  passion  seem  to  her  like  flashes  of 
a  bright  intelligence,  too  quick  and  too  brilliant  for  mere 
reason.     She  could  give  me  no  comfort  nor  counsel,  either." 

"I  am  not  of  your  mind,"  said  she,  slowly.  "She  has 
the  great  gift  of  what  people  so  mistakingly  call  common- 
sense." 

"And  she  'd  recommend  me,  perhaps,  not  to  quarrel  with 
my  father,  and  to  go  and  break  the  stones." 

"Were  you  ever  in  love.  Cousin  Dick?"  asked  she,  in 
a  tone  every  accent  of  which  betokened  earnestness  and 
even  gravity. 

"Perhaps  I  might  say  never.  I  have  spooned  or  flirted, 
or  whatever  the  name  of  it  might  be;  but  I  was  never 
seriously  attached  to  one  girl,  and  unable  to  think  of  any- 
thing but  her.  But  what  has  your  question  to  do  with 
this?" 

"Everything.  If  you  really  loved  a- girl,  —  that  is,  if  she 
filled  every  corner  of  your  heart,  if  she  was  first  in  every 
plan  and  project  of  your  life,  not  alone  her  wishes  and  her 
likings,  but  her  very  words  and  the  sound  of  her  voice,  —  if 
you  saw  her  in  everything  that  was  beautiful,  and  heard  her 
in  every  tone  that  delighted  you,  —  if  to  be  moving  in  the 


142  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

air  she  breathed  was  ecstasy,  and  that  heaven  itself  without 
her  was  cheerless ;  if  —  " 

"Oh,  don't  go  on,  Nina.  None  of  these  ecstasies  could 
ever  be  mine.  I  have  no  nature  to  be  moved  or  moulded 
in  this  fashion.  I  might  be  very  fond  of  a  girl;  but  she  'd 
never  drive  me  mad  if  she  left  me  for  another." 

"I  hope  she  may,  then,  if  it  be  with  such  false  money 
you  would  buy  her,"  said  she,  fiercely.  "Do  you  know," 
added  she,  after  a  pause,  "I  was  almost  on  the  verge  of 
saying,  go  and  break  the  stones;  the  Dietier  is  not  much 
beneath  you,  after  all ! " 

"This  is  scarcely  civil,  Mademoiselle;  see  what  my 
candor  has  brought  upon  me!  " 

"Be  as  candid  as  you  like  upon  the  faults  of  your  nature. 
Tell  every  wickedness  that  you  have  done  or  dreamed  of, 
but  don't  own  to  cold-heartedness.  For  that  there  is  no 
sympathy!  " 

"Let  us  go  back?  a  bit,  then,"  said  he,  "and  let  us  sup- 
pose that  I  did  love  in  the  same  fervent  and  insane  manner 
you  spoke  of,  what  and  how  would  it  help  me  here?  " 

"Of  course  it  would.  Of  all  the  ingenuity  that  plotters 
talk  of,  of  all  the  imagination  that  poets  dream,  there  is 
nothing  to  compare  with  love.  To  gain  a  plodding  subsist- 
ence a  man  will  do  much.  To  win  the  girl  he  loves,  to 
make  her  his  own,  he  will  do  everything;  he  will  strive, 
and  strain,  and  even  starve  to  win  her.  Poverty  will  have 
nothing  mean  if  confronted  for  her,  hardship  have  no 
suffering  if  endured  for  her  sake.  With  her  before  him  all 
the  world  shows  but  one  goal;  without  her  life  is  a  mere 
dreary  task,  and  himself  a  hired  laborer." 

"I  confess,  after  all  this,  that  I  don't  see  how  breaking 
stones  would  be  more  palatable  to  me  because  some  pretty 
girl  that  I  was  fond  of  saw  me  hammering  away  at  my 
limestone !  " 

"If  you  could  have  loved  as  I  would  wish  you  to  love, 
your  career  had  never  fallen  to  this.  The  heart  that  loved 
would  have  stimulated  the  head  that  thought.  Don't  fancy 
that  people  are  only  better  because  they  are  in  love;  but 
they  are  greater,  bolder,  brighter,  more  daring  in  danger, 
and  more  ready  in  every  emergency.     So  wonder-working 


DICK'S   EEVERY.  143 

is  the  real  passion  that  even  in  the  base  mockery  of  Love 
men  have  risen  to  genius.  Look  what  it  made  Petrarch; 
and  I  might  say  Byron,  too,  tho'  he  never  loved  worthy  of 
the  name." 

*'And  how  came  you  to  know  all  this,  cousin  mine?  I  'm 
really  curious  to  know  that." 

"I  was  reared  in  Italy,  Cousin  Dick,  and  I  have  made  a 
deep  study  of  nature  through  French  novels." 

Now  there  was  a  laughing  devilry  in  her  eye,  as  she  said 
this,  that  terribly  puzzled  the  young  fellow;  for  just  at  the 
very  moment  her  enthusiasm  had  begun  to  stir  his  breast, 
her  merry  mockery  wafted  It  away  as  with  a  storm- 
wind. 

"I  wish  I  knew  if  you  were  serious,"  said  he,  gravely. 

''Just  as  serious  as  you  were  when  you  spoke  of  being 
ruined." 

"I  was  so,  I  pledge  my  honor.  The  conversation  I 
reported  to  you  really  took  place ;  and  when  you  joined  me, 
I  was  gravely  deliberating  with  myself  whether  I  should 
take  a  header  into  a  deep  pool  or  enlist  as  a  soldier." 

''Fie,  fie!  how  ignoble  all  that  is!  You  don't  know  the 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  things  one  can  do  in  life.  Do 
you  speak  French  or  Italian?" 

"I  can  read  them,  but  not  freely;  but  how  are  they  to  help 
me?" 

"You  shall  see;  first  of  all,  let  me  be  your  tutor.  We 
shall  take  two  hours,  three  if  you  like,  every  morning. 
Are  you  free  now  from  all  your  college  studies?  " 

"I  can  be  after  "Wednesday  next.  I  ought  to  go  up  for 
my  term  examination." 

"Well,  do  so;  but  mind,  don't  bring  down  Mr.  Atlee 
with  you." 

"My  chum  is  no  favorite  of  yours?  " 

"That's  as  it  may  be,"  said  she,  haughtily.  "I  have 
only  said  let  us  not  have  the  embarrassment,  or,  if  you  like 
it,  the  pleasure  of  his  company.  I  '11  give  you  a  list  of 
books  to  bring  down,  and  my  life  be  on  it,  but  my  course 
of  study  will  surpass  what  you  have  been  doing  at  Trinity. 
Is  it  agreed?" 

"Give  me  till  to-morrow  to  think  of  it,  Nina." 


144  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

''That  does  not  sound  like  a  very  warm  acceptance;  but 
be  it  so,  —  till  to-morrow." 

''Here  are  some  of  Kate's  dogs,"  cried  he,  angrily. 
"Down,  Fan,  down!  I  say.  I'll  leave  you  now  before  she 
joins  us.     Mind,  not  a  word  of  what  I  told  you." 

And,  without  another  word,  he  sprang  over  a  low  fence, 
and  speedily  disappeared  in  the  copse  beyond  it. 

"Wasn't  that  Dick  I  saw  making  his  escape?"  cried 
Kate,  as  she  came  up. 

"Yes,  we  were  taking  a  walk  together,  and  he  left  me 
very  abruptly." 

"I  wish  I  had  not  spoiled  a  tete-a-tete,'*  said  Kate, 
merrily. 

"It  is  no  great  mischief;  we  can  always  renew  it." 

"Dear  Nina,"  said  the  other,  caressingly,  as  she  drew 
her  arm  around  her,  —  "  dear,  dear  Nina,  do  not,  do  not,  I 
beseech  you." 

"Don't  what,  child?  —  you  must  not  speak  riddles." 

"Don't  make  that  poor  boy  in  love  with  you.  You  your- 
self told  me  you  could  save  him  from  it  if  you  liked." 

"And  so  I  shall,  Kate,  if  you  don't  dictate  or  order  me. 
Leave  me  quite  to  myself  and  I  shall  be  most  merciful." 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

MATHEW  Kearney's  "study." 

Had  Mathew  Kearney  but  read  the  second  sheet  of  his  cor- 
respondent's letter,  it  is  more  than  likely  that  Dick  had  not 
taken  such  a  gloomy  view  of  his  condition.  Mr.  McKeown's 
epistle  continued  in  this  fashion:  "That  ought  to  do  for 
him,  Mathew,  or  my  name  ain't  Tom  McKeown.  It  is 
not  that  he  is  any  worse  or  better  than  other  young  fel- 
lows of  his  own  stamp,  but  he  has  the  greatest  scamp  in 
Christendom  for  his  daily  associate.  Atlee  is  deep  in  all 
the  mischief  that  goes  on  in  the  national  press.  I  believe 
he  is  a  head-centre  of  the  Fenians,  and  I  know  he  has  a 
correspondence  with  the  French  socialists,  and  that  Rights- 
of-labor-knot  of  vagabonds  who  meet  at  Geneva.  Your  boy 
is  not  too  wise  to  keep  himself  out  of  these  scrapes,  and 
he  IS  just  by  name  and  station  of  consequence  enough  to 
make  these  fellows  make  up  to  and  flatter  him.  Give  him  a 
sound  fright  then ;  and  when  he  is  thoroughly  alarmed  about 
his  failure,  send  him  abroad  for  a  short  tour,  let  him  go 
study  at  Halle  or  Heidelberg,  —  anything,  in  short,  that  will 
take  him  away  from  Ireland,  and  break  off  his  intimacy 
with  this  Atlee  and  his  companions.  While  he  is  with  you 
at  Kilgobbin,  don't  let  him  make  acquaintance  with  those 
Radical  fellows  in  the  county  towns.  Keep  him  down, 
Mathew,  keep  him  down ;  and  if  you  find  that  you  cannot 
do  this,  make  him  believe  that  you  '11  be  one  day  lords  of 
Kilgobbin,  and  the  more  he  has  to  lose  the  more  reluctant 
he  '11  be  to  risk  it.  If  he  'd  take  to  farming,  and  marry 
some  decent  girl,  even  a  little  beneath  him  in  life,  it  would 
save  you  all  uneasiness ;  but  he  is  just  that  thing  now  that 
brings  all  the  misery  on  us  in  Ireland.     He  thinks  he  's  a 

10 


146  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

gentleman  because  he  can  do  nothing ;  and  to  save  himself 
from  the  disgrace  of  incapacity  he  'd  like  to  be  a  rebel." 

If  Mr.  Tom  McKeown's  reasonings  were  at  times  some- 
what abstruse  and  hard  of  comprehension  to  his  friend 
Kearney,  it  was  not  that  he  did  not  bestow  on  them  due 
thought  and  reflection;  and  over  this  private  and  strictly 
confidential  page  he  had  now  meditated  for  hours. 

"Bad  luck  to  me,"  cried  he  at  last,  "  if  I  see  what  he  's  at. 
If  I  'm  to  tell  the  boy  he  is  ruined  to-day,  and  to-morrow  to 
announce  to  him  that  he  is  a  lord,  — if  I  'm  to  threaten  him 
now  with  poverty,  and  the  morning  after  I  'm  to  send  him 
to  Halle  or  Hell,  or  wherever  it  is,  —  I  '11  soon  be  out  of  my 
mind,  myself,  through  bare  confusion.  As  to  having  him 
'  down,'  he  's  low  enough;  but  so  shall  I  be,  too,  if  I  keep 
him  there.  I  'm  not  used  to  seeing  my  house  uncomfort- 
able, and  I  cannot  bear  it." 

Such  were  some  of  his  reflections  over  his  agent's  advice; 
and  it  may  be  imagined  that  the  Machiavellian  Mr.  McKeown 
had  fallen  upon  a  very  inapt  pupil. 

It  must  be  owned  that  Mathew  Kearney  was  somewhat 
out  of  temper  with  his  son  even  before  the  arrival  of  this 
letter.  While  the  "swells,"  as  he  would  persist  in  calling 
the  two  English  visitors,  were  there,  Dick  took  no  trouble 
about  them,  nor  to  all  seeming  made  any  impression  on 
them.  As  Mathew  said,  "He  let  Joe  Atlee  make  all  the 
running,  and,  signs  on  it!  Joe  Atlee  was  taken  off  to  town 
as  Walpole's  companion,  and  Dick  not  so  much  as  thought 
of.  Joe,  too,  did  the  honors  of  the  house  as  if  it  was  his 
own,  and  talked  to  Lockwood  about  coming  down  for  the 
partridge-shooting,  as  if  he  was  the  head  of  the  family. 
The  fellow  was  a  bad  lot,«and  McKeown  was  right  so  far, 

—  the  less  Dick  saw  of  him  the  better." 

The  trouble  and  distress  these  reflections,  and  others  like 
them,  cost  him  would  more  than  have  recompensed  Dick, 
had  he  been  hard-hearted  enough  to  desire  a  vengeance. 
"For  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  or  maybe  twenty  minutes, ''  said 
he,  "  I  can  be  as  angry  as  any  man  in  Europe,  and,  if  it  was 
required  of  me  during  that  time  to  do  anything  desperate, 

—  downright  wicked,  —  I  could  be  bound  to  do  it ;  and 
what 's  more,  I  'd  stand  to  it  afterwards  if  it  cost  me  the 


MATHEW  KEARNEY'S  "STUDY."  147 

gallows.  But  as  for  keeping  up  the  same  mind,  as  for  being 
able  to  say  to  myself  my  heart  is  as  hard  as  ever,  I  'm  just 
as  much  bent  on  cruelty  as  I  was  yesterday,  —  that 's  clean 
beyond  me ;  and  the  reason,  God  help  me,  is  no  great  com- 
fort to  me  after  all;  for  it 's  just  this,  —  that  when  I  do  a 
hard  thing,  whether  distraining  a  creature  out  of  his  bit  of 
ground,  selling  a  widow's  pig,  or  fining  a  fellow  for  shoot- 
ing a  hare,  I  lose  my  appetite  and  have  no  heart  for  my 
meals ;  and  as  sure  as  1  go  asleep,  I  dream  of  all  the  mis- 
fortunes in  life  happening  to  me,  and  my  guardian  angel 
sitting  laughing  all  the  while  and  saying  to  me,  '  Didn't  you 
bring  it  on  yourself,  Mathew  Kearney?  could  n't  you  bear  a 
little  rub  without  trying  to  make  a  calamity  of  it?  Must 
somebody  be  always  punished  when  anything  goes  wrong  in 
life  ?  Make  up  your  mind  to  have  six  troubles  every  day 
of  your  life,  and  see  how  jolly  you  '11  be  the  day  you  can 
only  count  five,  or  maybe  four.'  " 

As  Mr.  Kearney  sat  brooding  in  this  wise,  Peter  Gill 
made  his  entrance  into  the  study  with  the  formidable 
monthly  lists  and  accounts,  whose  examination  constituted 
a  veritable  doomsday  to  the  unhappy  master. 

"  Would  n't  next  Saturday  do,  Peter?  "  asked  Kearney,  in 
a  tone  of  almost  entreaty. 

"I  'm  afther  ye  since  Tuesday  last,  and  I  don't  think  I  '11 
be  able  to  go  on  much  longer." 

Now,  as  Mr.  Gill  meant  by  this  speech  to  imply  that  he 
was  obliged  to  trust  entirely  to  his  memory  for  all  the  details 
which  would  have  been  committed  to  writing  by  others,  and 
to  a  notched  stick  for  the  manifold  dates  of  a  vast  variety 
of  events,  it  was  not  really  a  very  unfair  request  he  had 
made  for  a  peremptory  hearing. 

"I  vow  to  the  Lord,"  sighed  out  Kearney,  "I  believe  I  'm 
the  hardest  worked  man  in  the  three  kingdoms." 

"Maybe  you  are,"  muttered  Gill,  though  certainly  the 
concurrence  scarcely  sounded  hearty,  while  he  meanwhile 
arranged  the  books. 

"Oh,  I  know  well  enough  what  you  mean.  If  a  man 
does  n't  work  with  a  spade  or  follow  the  plough,  you  won't 
believe  that  he  works  at  all.  He  must  drive,  or  dig,  or 
drain,  or  mow.     There  's  no  labor  but  what  strains  a  man's 


148  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

back,  and  makes  him  weary  about  the  loins ;  but  I  '11  tell 
you,  Peter  Gill,  that  it 's  here  "  —  and  he  touched  his  fore- 
head with  his  finger,  —  ''it's  here  is  the  real  workshop. 
It's  thinking  and  contriving;  setting  this  against  that; 
doing  one  thing  that  another  may  happen,  and  guessing 
what  will  come  if  we  do  this  and  don't  do  that;  carrying 
everything  in  your  brain,  and,  whether  you  are  sitting  over 
a  glass  with  a  friend,  or  taking  a  nap  after  dinner,  think- 
ing away  all  the  time!  What  would  you  call  that,  Peter 
Gill,  —  what  would  you  call  that?  " 

''Madness,  begorra,  or  mighty  near  it!  " 

"No;  it's  just  work, — brain-work.  As  much  above 
mere  manual  labor  as  the  intellect,  the  faculty  that  raises  us 
above  the  brutes,  is  above  the  —  the  —  " 

"Yes,"  said  Gill,  opening  the  large  volume,  and  vaguely 
passing  his  hand  over  a  page.  "It's  somewhere  there 
about  the  Conacre!" 

"You  're  little  better  than  a  beast!  "  said  Kearney, 
angrily. 

"Maybe  I  am,  and  maybe  I'm  not.  Let  us  finish  this, 
now  that  we  're  about  it." 

And  so  saying,  he  deposited  his  other  books  and  papers 
on  the  table,  and  then  drew  from  his  breast-pocket  a  some- 
what thick  roll  of  exceedingly  dirty  bank-notes,  fastened 
with  a  leather  thong. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  some  money  at  last,  Peter,"  cried 
Kearney,  as  his  eye  caught  sight  of  the  notes. 

"Faix,  then,  it's  little  good  they'll  do  ye,"  muttered 
the  other,  gruflfly. 

"What  d'  ye  mean  by  that,  sir?  "  asked  he,  angrily. 

"Just  what  I  said,  my  Lord,  the  devil  a  more  nor  less; 
and  that  the  money  you  see  here  is  no  more  yours  nor  it  is 
mine!  It  belongs  to  the  land  it  came  from.  Ay,  ay, 
stamp  away,  and  go  red  in  the  face;  you  must  hear  the 
truth,  whether  you  like  it  or  no.  The  place  we  're  living  in 
is  going  to  rack  and  ruin  out  of  sheer  bad  treatment. 
There  's  not  a  hedge  on  the  estate;  there  isn't  a  gate  that 
could  be  called  a  gate;  the  holes  the  people  live  in  isn't 
good  enough  for  badgers ;  there  's  no  water  for  the  mill  at 
the   cross-roads;   and  the  Loch  meadows  is  drowned  with 


MATHEW  KEARNEY'S   "STUDY."  149 

wet,  —  we  're  dragging  for  the  hay,  like  sea- weed !  And 
you  think  you  've  a  right  to  these,"  —  and  he  actually  shook 
the  notes  at  him,  — "to  go  and  squander  them  on  them 
'  impedint '  Englishmen  that  was  laughing  at  you!  Did  n't 
I  hear  them  myself  about  the  tablecloth  that  one  said  was 
the  sail  of  a  boat." 

"Will  you  hold  your  tongue?"  cried  Kearney,  wild  with 
passion. 

"1  will  not!  I'll  die  on  the  floore  but  I'll  speak  my 
mind." 

This  was  not  only  a  favorite  phrase  of  Mr.  Gill's,  but  it 
was  so  far  significant  that  it  always  indicated  he  was  about 
to  give  notice  to  leave,  —  a  menace  on  his  part  of  no  unfre- 
quent  occurrence. 

"  Ye  's  going,  are  ye?  "  asked  Kearney,  jeeringly. 

"I  just  am;  and  I'm  come  to  give  up  the  books,  and 
to  get  my  receipts  and  my  charac — ter." 

"It  won't  be  hard  to  give  the  last,  anyway,"  said  Kear- 
ney, with  a  grin. 

"  So  much  the  better.  It  will  save  your  honor  much 
writing,  with  all  that  you  have  to  do." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  kick  you  out  of  the  office,  Peter 
Gill?" 

"No,  my  Lord,  I'm  going  quiet  and  peaceable.  I  'm  only 
asking  my  rights." 

"You  're  bidding  hard  to  be  kicked  out,  you  are?  " 

"Am  I  to  leave  them  here,  or  will  your  honor  go  over  the 
books  with  me?" 

"Leave  the  notes,  sir,  and  go  to  the  devil." 

"I  will,  my  Lord;  and  one  comfort  at  least,  I'll  have: 
it  won't  be  harder  to  put  up  with  his  temper." 

Mr.  Gill's  head  barely  escaped  the  heavy  account-book 
which  struck  the  door  above  him  as  he  escaped  from  the 
room,  and  Mathew  Kearney  sat  back  in  his  chair  and 
grasped  the  arms  of  it  like  one  threatened  with  a  fit. 

"Where  's  Miss  Kitty,  —  where  's  my  daughter?  "  cried  he 
aloud,  as  though  there  was  some  one  within  hearing. 
"Taking  the  dogs  a  walk,  I  '11  be  bound,"  muttered  he,  "or 
gone  to  see  somebody's  child  with  the  measles,  devil  fear 
her!     She  has  plenty  on  her  hands  to  do  anywhere  but  at 


150  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

home.  The  place  might  be  going  to  rack  and  ruin  for  her 
if  there  was  only  a  young  colt  to  look  at,  or  a  new  litter  of 
pigs!  And  so  you  think  to  frighten  me,  Peter  Gill! 
You  've  been  doing  the  same  thing  every  Easter,  and  every 
harvest,  these  five-and-twenty  years !  I  can  only  say  I  wish 
you  had  kept  your  threat  long  ago,  and  the  property  would  n't 
have  as  many  tumble-down  cabins  and  ruined  fences  as  it 
has  now,  and  my  rent-roll,  too,  wouldn't  have  been  the 
worse.  I  don't  believe  there  's  a  man  in  Ireland  more 
cruelly  robbed  than  myself.  There  is  n't  an  estate  in  the 
county  has  not  risen  in  value  except  my  own!  There  's  not 
a  landed  gentleman  has  n't  laid  by  money  in  the  barony 
but  myself,  and  if  you  were  to  believe  the  newspapers,  I  'm 
the  hardest  landlord  in  the  province  of  Leinster.  Is  that 
Mickey  Doolan,  there?  Mickey!"  cried  he,  opening  the 
window,  "did  you  see  Miss  Kearney  anywhere  about?  " 

"Yes,  my  Lord.  I  see  her  coming  up  the  Bog  road  with 
Miss  O'Shea." 

"The  worse  luck  mine,"  muttered  he,  as  he  closed  the 
•window,  and  leaned  his  head  ou  his  hand. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

AN    UNWELCOME    VISIT. 

If  Mathew  Kearney  had  been  put  to  the  question,  he  could 
not  have  concealed  the  fact,  that  the  human  being  he  most 
feared  and  dreaded  in  life  was  his  neighbor  Miss  Betty 
O'Shea. 

With  two  years  of  seniority  over  him,  Miss  Betty  had 
bullied  him  as  a  child,  snubbed  him  as  a  youth,  and  op- 
posed and  sneered  at  him  ever  after;  and  to  such  an 
extent  did  her  influence  over  his  character  extend,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  belief,  that  there  was  not  a  single  good 
trait  of  his  nature  she  had  not  thwarted  by  ridicule,  nor  a 
single  evil  temptation  to  whicli  he  had  yielded,  that  had 
not  come  out  of  sheer  opposition  to  that  lady's  dictation. 

Malevolent  people,  indeed,  had  said  that  Mathew  Kearney 
had  once  had  matrimonial  designs  on  Miss  Betty,  or  rather, 
on  that  snug  place  and  nice  property  called  "  O'Shea's 
Barn,"  of  which  she  was  sole  heiress ;  but  he  most  stoutly 
declared  this  story  to  be  groundless,  and  in  a  forcible 
manner  asseverated  that  had  he  been  Robinson  Crusoe  and 
Miss  Betty  the  only  inhabitant  of  the  island  with  him,  he 
would  have  lived  and  died  in  celibacy  rather  than  have 
contracted  dearer  ties. 

Miss  Betty,  to  give  her  the  name  by  which  she  was  best 
known,  was  no  miracle  of  either  tact  or  amiability,  but  she 
had  certain  qualities  that  could  not  be  disparaged.  She 
was  a  strict  Catholic,  charitable,  in  her  own  peculiar  and 
imperious  way,  to  the  poor,  very  desirous  to  be  strictly  just 
and  honest,  and  such  a  sure  foe  to  everything  that  she 
thought  pretension  or  humbug  of  any  kind  —  which  meant 
anything  that  did  not  square  with  her  own  habits  —  that 


152  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

she  was  perfectly  intolerable  to  all  who  did  not  accept  her- 
self and  her  own  mode  of  life  as  a  model  and  an  example. 

Thus,  a  stout-bodied  copper  urn  on  the  tea-table,  a  very 
uncouth  jaunting-car,  driven  by  an  old  man,  whose  only 
livery  was  a  cockade,  some  very  muddy  port  as  a  dinner 
wine,  and  whiskey-punch  afterwards  on  the  brown  mahog- 
any, were  so  many  articles  of  belief  with  her,  to  dissent 
from  any  of  which  was  a  downright  heresy. 

Thus,  after  Nina  arrived  at  the  castle,  the  appearance  of 
napkins  palpably  affected  her  constitution ;  with  the  advent 
of  finger-glasses  she  ceased  her  visits,  and  bluntly  declined 
all  invitations  to  dinner.  That  coffee  and  some  indescrib- 
able liberties  would  follow,  as  postprandial  excesses,  she 
secretly  imparted  to  Kate  Kearney,  in  a  note,  which  con- 
cluded with  the  assurance  that  when  the  day  of  these  enor- 
mities arrived,  O'Shea's  Barn  would  be  open  to  her  as  a 
refuge  and  a  sanctuary  ;  "  but  not,"  added  she,  ''  with  your 
cousin,  for  I'll  not  let  the  hussy  cross  my  doors." 

For  months  now  this  strict  quarantine  had  lasted,  and 
except  for  the  interchange  of  some  brief  and  very  uninterest- 
ing notes,  all  intimacy  had  ceased  between  the  two  houses 
—  a  circumstance,  I  am  loath  to  own,  which  was  most  un- 
gallantly  recorded  every  day  after  dinner  by  old  Kearney, 
who  drank  ^'Miss  Betty's  health,  and  long  absence  to  her." 
It  was  then  with  no  small  astonishment  Kate  was  overtaken 
in  the  avenue  by  Miss  Betty  on  her  old  chestnut  mare 
Judy,  a  small  bog-boy  mounted  on  the  croup  behind,  to 
act  as  groom ;  for  in  this  way  Paddy  Walshe  was  accus- 
tomed to  travel,  without  the  slightest  consciousness  that  he 
was  not  in  strict  conformity  with  the  ways  of  Rotten  Row 
and  the  "  Bois." 

That  there  was  nothing  "  stuck-up  "  or  pretentious  about 
this  mode  of  being  accompanied  by  one's  groom  —  a  prop- 
osition scarcely  assailable  —  was  Miss  Betty's  declaration, 
delivered  in  a  sort  of  challenge  to  the  world.  Indeed, 
certain  ticklesome  tendencies  in  Judy,  particularly  when 
touched  with  the  heel,  seemed  to  offer  the  strongest  protest 
against  the  practice ;  for  whenever  pushed  to  any  increase 
of  speed  or  admonished  in  any  way,  the  beast  usually  re- 
sponded by  a  hoist  of  the  haunches,  which  invariably  com- 


AN  UNWELCOME  VISIT.  153 

pelled  Paddy  to  clasp  his  mistress  round  the  waist  for 
safety,  —  a  situation  which,  however  repugnant  to  maiden 
bashfulness,  time,  and  perhaps  necessity,  had  reconciled 
her  to.  At  all  events,  poor  Paddy's  terror  would  have  been 
the  amplest  refutation  of  scandal,  while  the  stern  immobil- 
ity of  Miss  Betty  during  the  embrace  would  have  silenced 
even  malevolence. 

On  the  present  occasion  a  sharp  canter  of  several  miles 
had  reduced  Judy  to  a  very  quiet  and  decorous  pace,  so 
that  Paddy  and  his  mistress  sat  almost  back  to  back,  —  a 
combination  that  only  long  habit  enabled  Kate  to  witness 
without  laughing. 

''Are  you  alone  up  at  the  castle,  dear?"  asked  Miss 
Betty,  as  she  rode  along  at  her  side  ;  "or  have  you  the  house 
full  of  what  the  papers  call  '  distinguished  company  ? '  " 

"We  are  quite  alone,  godmother.  My  brother  is  with 
us,  but  we  have  no  strangers." 

"I  am  glad  of  it.  I've  come  over  to  'have  it  out'  with 
your  father,  and  it's  pleasant  to  know  we  shall  be  to 
ourselves." 

Now,  as  this  announcement  of  having  "it  out"  conveyed 
to  Kate's  mind  nothing  short  of  an  open  declaration  of  war, 
a  day  of  reckoning  on  which  Miss  O'Shea  would  come  pre- 
pared with  a  full  indictment,  and  a  resolution  to  prosecute 
to  conviction,  the  poor  girl  shuddered  at  a  prospect  so  cer- 
tain to  end  in  calamity. 

"  Papa  is  very  far  from  well,  godmother,"  said  she,  in  a 
mild  way. 

"  So  they  tell  me  in  the  town,"  said  the  other,  snappishly. 
"  His  brother  magistrates  said  that  the  day  he  came  in,  about 
that  supposed  attack  —  the  memorable  search  for  arms —  " 

"Supposed  attack!  but,  godmother,  pray  don't  imagine 
we  had  invented  all  that.  I  think  you  know  me  well  enough 
and  long  enough  to  know  —  " 

"To  know  that  you  would  not  have  had  a  young  scamp 
of  a  Castle  aide-de-camp  on  a  visit  during  your  father's 
absence,  not  to  say  anything  about  amusing  your  English 
visitor  by  shooting  down  your  own  tenantry." 

' '  Will  you  listen  to  me  for  five  minutes  ?  " 

"  No,  not  for  three." 


154  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

"Two,  then  —  one  even  —  one  minute,  godmother,  will 
convince  you  how  you  wrong  me." 

"  I  won't  give  you  that.  I  didn't  come  over  about  you 
nor  your  affairs.  When  the  father  makes  a  fool  of  himself, 
why  would  n't  the  daughter?  The  whole  country  is  laughing 
at  him.  His  Lordship  indeed  !  a  ruined  estate  and  a  tenantry 
in  rags ;  and  the  only  remedy,  as  Peter  Gill  tells  me,  raising 
the  rents,  —  raising  the  rents  wliere  every  one  is  a  pauper." 

•'What  would  you  have  him  do.  Miss  O'Shea?"  said 
Kate,  almost  angrily. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  'd  have  him  do.  I  'd  have  him  rise 
of  a  morning  before  nine  o'clock,  and  be  out  with  his  laborers 
at  daybreak.  I  'd  have  him  reform  a  whole  lazy  household 
of  blackguards,  good  for  nothing  but  waste  and  wickedness. 
I  'd  have  him  apprentice  your  brother  to  a  decent  trade  or  a 
light  business.  I  'd  have  him  declare  he  'd  kick  the  first  man 
that  called  him  '  My  Lord ; '  and  for  yourself,  well,  it 's  no 
matter  —  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  is,  godmother,  a  great  matter  to  me  at  least. 
What  about  myself  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  wish  to  speak  of  it,  but  it  just  dropped  out 
of  my  lips  by  accident;  and  perhaps,  though  not  pleasant  to 
talk  about,  it 's  as  well  it  was  said  and  done  with.  I  meant 
to  tell  your  father  that  it  must  be  all  over  between  you  and 
my  nephew,  Gorman ;  that  I  won't  have  him  back  here  on 
leave  as  I  intended.  I  know  it  did  n't  go  far,  dear.  There 
was  none  of  what  they  call  love  in  the  case.  You  would 
probably  have  liked  one  another  well  enough  at  last ;  but  I 
w^on't  have  it,  and  it 's  better  we  came  to  the  right  under- 
standing at  once." 

"Your  curb-chain  is  loose,  godmother,"  said  the  girl; 
who  now,  pale  as  death  and  trembling  all  over,  advanced  to 
fasten  the  link. 

"  I  declare  to  the  Lord  he 's  asleep !  "  said  Miss  Betty,  as 
the  wearied  head  of  her  page  dropped  heavily  on  her  shoulder. 
"  Take  the  curb  off,  dear,  or  I  may  lose  it.  Put  it  in  your 
pocket  for  me,  Kate ;  that  is,  if  you  wear  a  pocket." 

"  Of  course  I  do,  godmother.  I  carry  very  stout  keys  in 
it,  too.     Look  at  these." 

"Ay,  ay.     I  liked  all  that,  once  on  a  time,  well  enough, 


AN  UNWELCOME   VISIT.  155 

and  used  to  think  you  'd  be  a  good  thrifty  wife  for  a  poor 
man ;  but  with  the  Viscount  your  father,  and  the  young 
Princess  your  first  cousin,  and  the  devil  knows  what  of  your 
fine  brother,  I  believe  the  sooner  we  part  good  friends  the 
better.  Not  but  if  you  like  my  plan  for  you,  I  '11  be  just  as 
ready  as  ever  to  aid  you." 

''  I  have  not  heard  the  plan  yet,"  said  Kate,  faintly. 

"  Just  a  nunnery,  then  —  no  more  nor  less  than  that.  The 
'  Sacred  Heart '  at  Namur,  or  the  Sisters  of  Mercy  here  at 
home  in  Bagot  Street,  I  believe,  if  you  like  better —  eh?  " 

"It  is  soon  to  be  able  to  make  up  one's  mind  on  such  a 
point.     I  want  a  little  time  for  this,  godmother." 

"  You  would  not  want  time  if  your  heart  were  in  a  holy 
work,  Kate  Kearney.  It 's  little  time  you  'd  be  asking  if  I 
said  will  you  have  Gorman  O'Shea  for  a  husband?  " 

"There  is  such  a  thing  as  insult.  Miss  O'Shea,  and  no 
amount  of  long  intimacy  can  license  that." 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  godchild.  I  wish  you  could  know 
how  sorry  I  feel." 

"  Say  no  more,  godmother,  say  no  more,  I  beseech  you," 
cried  Kate  ;  and  her  tears  now  gushed  forth,  and  relieved  her 
almost  bursting  heart.  "I'll  take  this  short  path  through 
the  shrubbery,  and  be  at  the  door  before  you,"  cried  she, 
rushing  away ;  while  Miss  Betty,  with  a  sharp  touch  of  the 
spur,  provoked  such  a  plunge  as  effectually  awoke  Paddy, 
and  apprised  him  that  his  duties  as  groom  were  soon  to  be 
in  request. 

While  earnestly  assuring  him  that  some  changes  in  his 
diet  should  be  speedily  adopted  against  somnolency.  Miss 
Betty  rode  briskly  on,  and  reached  the  hall-door. 

"  I  told  you  I  should  be  first,  godmother,"  said  the  girl; 
and  the  pleasant  ring  of  her  voice  showed  she  had  regained 
her  spirits,  or  at  least  such  self-control  as  enabled  her  to 
suppress  her  sorrow. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A    DOMESTIC    DISCUSSION. 

It  is  a  not  infrequent  distress  in  small  households,  especially 
when  some  miles  from  a  market  town,  to  make  adequate 
preparation  for  an  unexpected  guest  at  dinner;  but  even 
this  is  a  very  inferior  difficulty  to  that  experienced  by  those 
who  have  to  order  the  repast  in  conformity  with  certain 
rigid  notions  of  a  guest  who  will  criticise  the  smallest  devia- 
tion from  the  most  humble  standard,  and  actually  rebuke 
the  slightest  pretension  to  delicacy  of  food  or  elegance  of 
table  equipage. 

No  sooner,  then,  had  Kate  learned  that  Miss  O'Shea  was 
to  remain  for  dinner,  than  she  immediately  set  herself  to 
think  over  all  the  possible  reductions  that  might  be  made  ui 
the  fare,  and  all  the  plainness  and  simplicity  that  could  be 
imparted  to  the  service  of  the  meal.     * 

Napkins  had  not  been  the  sole  reform  suggested  by  the 
Greek  cousin.  She  had  introduced  flowers  on  the  table,  and 
so  artfully  had  she  decked  out  the  board  with  fruit  and  orna- 
mental plants,  that  she  had  succeeded  in  effecting  by  artifice 
what  would  have  been  an  egregious  failure  if  more  openly 
attempted,  —  the  service  of  the  dishes  one  by  one  to  the 
guests  without  any  being  placed  on  the  table.  These,  with 
finger-glasses,  she  had  already  achieved,  nor  had  she  in  the 
recesses  of  her  heart  given  up  the  hope  of  seeing  the  day 
that  her  uncle  would  rise  from  the  table  as  she  did,  give  her 
his  arm  to  the  drawing-room,  and  bow  profoundly  as  he  left 
her.  Of  the  inestimable  advantages,  social,  intellectual,  and 
moral,  of  this  system,  she  had  indeed  been  cautious  to  hold 
forth ;  for,  like  a  great  reformer,  she  was  satisfied  to  leave 
her  improvements  to  the  slow  test  of  time,  "  educating  her 


A  DOMESTIC   DISCUSSION.  157 

public,"  as  a  great  authority  has  called  it,  while  she  bided 
the  result  in  patience. 

Indeed,  as  poor  Mathew  Kearney  was  not  to  be  indulged 
with  the  luxury  of  whiskey-punch  during  his  dinner,  it  was 
not  easy  to  reply  to  his  question,  "When  am  I  to  have  my 
tumbler?"  as  though  he  evidently  believed  the  aforesaid 
• '  tumbler  "  was  an  institution  that  could  not  be  abrogated 
or  omitted  altogether. 

Coffee  in  the  drawing-room  was  only  a  half  success  so 
long  as  the  gentlemen  sat  over  their  wine ;  and  as  for  the 
daily  cigarette  Nina  smoked  with  it,  Kate,  in  her  simplicity, 
believed  it  was  only  done  as  a  sort  of  protest  at  being 
deserted  by  those  unnatural  protectors  who  preferred  poteen 
to  ladies. 

It  was  therefore  in  no  small  perturbation  of  mind  that 
Kate  rushed  to  her  cousin's  room  with  the  awful  tidings  that 
Miss  Betty  had  arrived  and  intended  to  remain  for  dinner. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  odious  woman  with  the  boy  and  baud- 
box  behind  her  on  horseback  ?  "  asked  Nina,  superciliously. 

"  Yes,  she  always  travels  in  that  fashion ;  she  is  odd  and 
eccentric  in  scores  of  things,  but  a  fine-hearted,  honest 
woman,  generous  to  the  poor,  and  true  to  her  friends." 

"  I  don't  care  for  her  moral  qualities,  but  I  do  bargain  for 
a  little  outward  decency,  and  some  respect  for  the  world's 
opinion." 

"  You  will  like  her,  Nina,  when  you  know  her." 

"I  shall  profit  by  the  warning.  I'll  take  care  not  to 
know  her." 

' '  She  is  one  of  the  oldest,  I  believe  the  oldest,  friend  our 
family  has  in  the  world." 

"What  a  sad  confession,  child;  but  I  have  always 
deplored  longevity." 

"  Don't  be  supercilious  or  sarcastic,  Nina,  but  help  me 
with  your  own  good  sense  and  wise  advice.  She  has  not 
come  over  in  the  best  of  humors.  She  has,  or  fancies  she 
has,  some  difference  to  settle  with  papa.  They  seldom  meet 
without  a  quarrel,  and  I  fear  this  occasion  is  to  be  no  excep- 
tion ;  so  do  aid  me  to  get  things  over  pleasantly,  if  it  be 
possible." 

"She  snubbed  me  the  only  time  I  met  her.     I  tried  to 


158  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

help  her  off  with  her  bonnet,  and,  unfortunately,  I  dis- 
placed, if  I  did  not  actually  remove,  her  wig,  and  she 
muttered  something  '  about  a  rope-dancer  not  being  a 
dexterous  lady's-maid.'  " 

"  Oh,  Nina,  surely  you  do  not  mean  —  " 

"Not  that  I  was  exactly  a  rope-dancer,  Kate,  but  I  had 
on  a  Greek  jacket  that  morning  of  blue  velvet  and  gold, 
and  a  white  skirt,  and  perhaps  these  had  some  memories  of 
the  circus  for  the  old  lady." 

"  You  are  only  jesting  now,  Nina." 

"  Don't  you  know  me  well  enough  to  know  that  I  never 
jest  when  1  think,  or  even  suspect,  I  am  injured?  " 

"Injured!" 

"It 's  not  the  word  I  wanted,  but  it  will  do ;  I  used  it  in 
its  French  sense." 

"  You  bear  no  malice,  I  'm  sure?  "  said  the  other,  caress- 
ingly. 

"No!  "  replied  she,  with  a  shrug  that  seemed  to  depre- 
cate even  having  a  thought  about  her. 

"  She  will  stay  for  dinner,  and  we  must,  as  far  as  possible, 
receive  her  in  the  way  she  has  been  used  to  here,  —  a  very 
homely  dinner,  served  as  she  has  always  seen  it,  —  no  fruit 
or  flowers  on  the  table,  no  claret-cup,  no  finger-glasses." 

' '  I  hope  no  tablecloth ;  could  n't  we  have  a  tray  on  a 
corner  table,  and  every  one  help  himself  as  he  strolled  about 
the  room  ?  " 

"  Dear  Nina,  be  reasonable  just  for  this  once." 

"  I'll  come  down  just  as  I  am,  or,  better  still,  I'll  take 
down  my  hair  and  cram  it  into  a  net ;  I  'd  oblige  her  with 
dirty  hands,  if  I  only  knew  how  to  do  it." 

"I  see  you  only  say  these  things  in  jest;  you  really  do 
mean  to  help  me  through  this  difficulty." 

' '  But  why  a  difficulty  ?  what  reason  can  you  offer  for  all 
this  absurd  submission  to  the  whims  of  a  very  tiresome  old 
woman?     Is  she  very  rich,  and  do  you  expect  an  heritage?  " 

"  No,  no;  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  Does  she  load  you  with  valuable  presents?  Is  she  ever 
ready  to  commemorate  birthdays  and  family  festivals?  " 

"No." 

"  Has  she  any  especial  quality  or  gift  beyond  riding  double 


A  DOMESTIC  DISCUSSION.  159 

and  a  bad  temper  ?  Oh,  I  was  forgetting ;  she  is  the  aunt  of 
her  nephew,  is  n't  she  ?  —  the  dashing  lancer  that  was  to 
spend  his  summer  over  here  ?  " 

''  You  were  indeed  forgetting  when  you  said  this,"  said 
Kate,  proudly ;  and  her  face  grew  scarlet  as  she  spoke. 

"  Tell  me  that  you  like  him  or  that  he  likes  you ;  tell  me 
that  there  is  something,  anything,  between  you,  child,  and 
I  '11  be  discreet  and  mannerly,  too ;  and  more,  I  '11  behave 
to  the  old  lady  with  every  regard  to  one  who  holds  such 
dear  interests  in  her  keeping.  But  don't  bandage  my  eyes, 
and  tell  me  at  the  same  time  to  look  out  and  see." 

"I  have  no  confidences  to  make  you,"  said  Kate,  coldly. 
''I  came  here  to  ask  a  favor, — a  very  small  favor,  after 
all,  —  and  you  might  have  accorded  it,  without  question  or 
ridicule." 

"But  which  you  never  need  have  asked,  Kate,"  said  the 
other,  gravely.  "You  are  the  mistress  here;  I  am  but  a 
very  humble  guest.  Your  orders  are  obeyed,  as  they  ought 
to  be ;  my  suggestions  may  be  adopted  now  and  then,  — 
partly  in  caprice,  part  compliment,  —  but  I  know  they  have 
no  permanence,  no  more  take  root  here  than  —  than  myself." 

"  Do  not  say  that,  my  dearest  Nina,"  said  Kate,  as  she 
threw  herself  on  her  neck,  and  kissed  her  affectionately 
again  and  again.  "  You  are  one  of  us,  and  we  are  all  proud 
of  it.  Come  along  with  me,  now,  and  tell  me  all  that  you 
advise.  You  know  what  I  wish,  and  you  will  forgive  me 
even  in  my  stupidity." 

"  Where  's  your  brother?  "  asked  Nina,  hastily. 

"  Gone  out  with  his  gun.  He  '11  not  be  back  till  he  is 
certain  Miss  Betty  has  taken  her  departure. " 

"  Why  did  he  not  offer  to  take  me  with  him?  " 

"  Over  the  bog,  do  you  mean?  " 

"Anywhere;  I'd  not  cavil  about  the  road.  Don't  you 
know  that  I  have  days  when  '  don't  care '  masters  me,  — 
when  I  'd  do  anything,  go  anywhere  —  " 

"  Marry  any  one?"  said  the  other,  laughing. 

"  Yes ;  marry  any  one,  as  irresponsibly  as  if  I  was  deal- 
ing with  the  destiny  of  some  other  that  did  not  regard  me. 
On  these  days  I  do  not  belong  to  myself,  and  this  is  one  of 
them." 


160  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  such  humors,  Nina ;  nor  do  I  believe 
it  a  healthy  mind  that  has  them." 

"  I  did  not  boast  of  my  mind's  health,  nor  tell  you  to  trust 
to  it.  Come,  let  us  go  down  to  the  dinner-room,  and  talk 
that  pleasant  leg-of-mutton  talk  you  know  you  are  fond 
of." 

"And  best  fitted  for,  say  that,"  said  Kate,  laughing 
merrily. 

The  other  did  not  seem  to  have  heard  her  words,  for  she 
moved  slowly  away,  calling  on  Kate  to  follow  her. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


A    SMALL    DINNER-PARTY. 


•It  is  sad  to  have  to  record  that  all  Kate's  persuasions  with 
her  cousin,  all  her  own  earnest  attempts  at  conciliation,  and 
her  ably  planned  schemes  to  escape  a  difficulty,  were  only  so 
much  labor  lost.  A  stern  message  from  her  father  com- 
manded her  to  make  no  change  either  in  the  house  or  the 
service  of  the  dinner,  —  an  interference  with  domestic  cares 
so  novel  on  his  part  as  to  show  that  he  had  prepared  himself 
for  hostilities,  and  was  resolved  to  meet  his  enemy  boldly. 

"It's  no  use,  all  I  have  been  telling  you,  Nina,"  said 
Kate,  as  she  re-entered  her  room,  later  in  the  day.  "Papa 
orders  me  to  have  everything  as  usual,  and  won't  even  let 
me  give  Miss  Betty  an  early  dinner,  though  he  knows  she 
has  nine  miles  of  a  ride  to  reach  home." 

"That  explains  somewhat  a  message  he  has  sent  myself," 
replied  Nina,  "to  wear  my  very  prettiest  toilette  and  my 
Greek  cap,  which  he  admired  so  much  the  other  day." 

' '  I  am  almost  glad  that  my  wardrobe  has  nothing  attrac- 
tive," said  Kate,  half  sadly.  "I  certainly  shall  never  be 
rebuked  for  my  becomingness." 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  the  old  woman  would  be 
rude  enough  to  extend  her  comments  to  me.?" 

"I  have  known  her  do  things  quite  as  hardy,  though  I 
hope  on  the  present  occasion  the  other  novelties  may  shelter 
you." 

"Why  isn't  your  brother  here?  I  should  insist  on  his 
coming  down  in  discreet  black,  with  a  white  tie  and  that 
look  of  imposing  solemnity  young  Englishmen  assume  for 
dinner." 

"  Dick  guessed  what  was  coming,  and  would  not  encoun- 
ter it." 

11 


162  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

' '  And  yet  you  tell  me  you  submit  to  all  this  for  no  earthly 
reason.  She  can  leave  you  no  legacy,  contribute  in  no  way 
to  your  benefit.  She  has  neither  family,  fortune,  nor  con- 
nections ;  and,  except  her  atrocious  manners  and  her  in- 
domitable temper,  there  is  not  a  trait  of  her  that  claims  to 
be  recorded." 

"Oh,  yes;  she  rides  capitally  to  hounds,  and  hunts  her 
own  harriers  to  perfection." 

"I  am  glad  she  has  one  quality  that  deserves  your 
favor." 

"  She  has  others,  too,  which  I  like  better  than  what  they 
call  accomplishments.  She  is  very  kind  to  the  poor,  never 
deterred  by  any  sickness  from  visiting  them,  and  has  the 
same  stout-hearted  courage  for  every  casualty  in  life." 

"  A  commendable  gift  for  a  Squaw,  but  what  does  a 
Gentlewoman  want  with  this  same  courage?" 

"Look  out  of  the  window,  Nina,  and  see  where  you  are 
living !  Throw  your  eyes  over  that  great  expanse  of  dark 
bog,  vast  as  one  of  the  great  campagnas  you  have  often 
described  to  us,  and  bethink  you  how  mere  loneliness  — 
desolation  —  needs  a  stout  heart  to  bear  it ;  how  the  simple 
fact  that  for  the  long  hours  of  a  summer's  day,  or  the  longer 
hours  of  a  winter's  night,  a  lone  woman  has  to  watch  and 
think  of  all  the  possible  casualties  lives  of  hardship  and 
misery  may  impel  men  to.  Do  you  imagine  that  she  does 
not  mark  the  growing  discontent  of  the  people?  see  their 
careworn  looks  dashed  with  a  sullen  determination,  and 
hear  in  their  voices  the  rising  of  a  hoarse  defiance  that  was 
never  heard  before?  Does  she  not  well  know  that  every 
kindness  she  has  bestowed,  every  merciful  act  she  has  minis- 
tered, would  weigh  for  nothing  in  the  balance  on  the  day 
that  she  will  be  arraigned  as  a  landowner,  —  the  receiver  of 
the  poor  man's  rent !  And  will  you  tell  me  after  this  she 
can  dispense  with  courage  ?  " 

"  Bel  paese  davvero  !  "  muttered  the  other. 

"So  it  is,"  cried  Kate;  "with  all  its  faults  I'd  not  ex- 
change it  for  the  brightest  land  that  ever  glittered  in  a 
southern  siin.  But  why  should  I  tell  you  how  jarred  and 
disconcerted  we  are  by  laws  that  have  no  reference  to  our 
ways,  —  conferring  rights  where  we  were  once  contented  with 


A  SMALL  DINNER-PARTY.  163 

trustfulness,  and  teaching  men  to  do  everything  by  contract, 
and  nothing  by  affection,  nothing  by  good-wilL" 

"No,  no,  tell  me  none  of  all  these;  but  tell  me  shall  I 
come  down  in  my  Suliote  jacket  of  yellow  cloth,  for  I  know 
it  becomes  me  ?  " 

"  And  if  we  women  had  not  courage,"  went  on  Kate,  not 
heeding  the  question,  "  what  would  our  men  do?  Should 
we  see  them  lead  lives  of  bolder  daring  than  the  stoutest 
wanderer  in  Africa?" 

"And  my  jacket  and  my  Theban  belt?" 

"Wear  them  all.  Be  as  beautiful  as  you  like,  but  don't 
be  late  for  dinner."  And  Kate  hurried  away  before  the 
other  could  speak. 

When  Miss  O'Shea,  arrayed  in  a  scarlet  poplin  and  a 
yellow  gauze  turban,  —  the  month  being  August,  —  arrived 
in  the  drawing-room  before  dinner,  she  found  no  one  there, 
—  a  circumstance  that  chagrined  her  so  far  that  she  had 
hurried  her  toilette  and  torn  one  of  her  gloves  in  her  haste. 
"  When  they  say  six  for  the  dinner-hour,  they  might  surely 
be  in  the  drawing-room  by  that  hour,"  was  Miss  Betty's 
reflection,  as  she  turned  over  some  of  the  magazines  and 
circulating-library  books  which  since  Nina's  arrival  had 
found  their  way  to  Kilgobbin.  The  contemptuous  manner 
in  which  she  treated  Blackwood  and  Macmillan,  and  the 
indignant  dash  with  which  she  flung  TroUope's  last  novel 
down,  showed  that  she  had  not  been  yet  corrupted  by  the 
light  reading  of  the  age.  An  unopened  country  news- 
paper, addressed  to  the  Viscount  Kilgobbin,  had  however 
absorbed  all  her  attention,  and  she  was  more  than  half  dis- 
posed to  possess  herself  of  the  envelope  when  Mr.  Kearney 
entered. 

His  bright  blue  coat  and  white  waistcoat,  a  profusion  of 
shirt-frill,  and  a  voluminous  cravat  proclaimed  dinner  dress, 
and  a  certain  pomposity  of  manner  showed  how  an  unusual 
costume  had  imposed  on  himself,  and  suggested  an  impor- 
tant event. 

"I  hope  I  see  Miss  O'Shea  in  good  health?"  said  he, 
advancing. 

■  "How  are  you,  Mathew?"  replied  she,  dryly.     "When 
I  heard  that  big  bell  thundering  away,  I  was  so  afraid  to 


164  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

be  late  that  I  came  down  with  one  bracelet,  and  I  have 
torn  my  glove  too." 

"  It  was  only  the  first  bell,  —  the  dressing-bell,"  he  said. 

"  Humph!  That's  something  new  since  I  was  here  last," 
said  she,  tartly. 

"  You  remind  me  of  how  long  it  is  since  you  dined  with 
us,  Miss  O'Shea." 

''  Well,  indeed,  Mathew,  I  meant  to  be  longer,  if  I  must 
tell  the  truth.  I  saw  enough  the  last  day  I  lunched  here  to 
show  me  Kilgobbin  was  not  what  it  used  to  be.  You  were 
all  of  you  what  my  poor  father  —  who  was  always  think- 
ing of  the  dogs —  used  to  call  'on  your  hind  legs,'  walking 
about  very  stately  and  very  miserable.  There  were  three 
or  four  covered  dishes  on  the  table  that  nobody  tasted ; 
and  an  old  man  in  red  breeches  ran  about  in  half  distrac- 
tion, and  said,  '  Sherry,  my  Lord,  or  Madeira.'  Many 's 
the  time  I  laughed  over  it  since."  And,  as  though  to  vouch 
for  the  truth  of  the  mirthfulness,  she  lay  back  in  her  chair, 
and  shook  with  hearty  laughter. 

Before  Kearney  could  reply  —  for  something  like  a  pass- 
ing apoplexy  had  arrested  his  words  —  the  girls  entered, 
and  made  their  salutations. 

"If  I  had  the  honor  of  knowing  you  longer.  Miss  Costi- 
gan,"  said  Miss  O'Shea  —  for  it  was  thus  she  translated 
the  name  Kostalergi — "I'd  ask  you  why  j^ou  couldn't 
dress  like  your  cousin  Kate.  It  may  be  all  very  well  in 
the  house,  and  it 's  safe  enough  here,  there  's  no  denying 
it ;  but  my  name  's  not  Betty  if  you  'd  walk  down  Kilbeggin 
without  a  crowd  yelling  after  you  and  calling  names  too, 
that  a  respectable  young  woman  would  n't  bargain  for :  eh, 
Mathew,  is  that  true?" 

"There's  the  dinner-bell  now,"  said  Mathew;  "may  I 
offer  my  arm?  " 

"  It 's  thin  enough  that  arm  is  getting,  Mathew  Kearney," 
said  she,  as  he  walked  along  at  her  side.  "Not  but  it's 
time,  too.  You  were  born  in  the  September  of  1809, 
though  your  mother  used  to  deny  it;  and  you're  now  a 
year  older  than  your  father  was  when  he  died." 

"Will  you  take  this  place?"  said  Kearney,  placing  her 
chair  for  her.  "We're  a  small  party  to-day.  I  see  Dick 
does  not  dine  with  us." 


^^^^.d^?97,/7^    K6<-<ny?2^?^ty  ^.^.Cl/^^Oyy. 


OF  rHE 

OF 
JFOf 


A  SMALL  DINNER-PARTY.  165 

•'  Maybe  I  hunted  him  away.  The  young  gentlemen  of 
the  present  day  are  frank  enough  to  say  what  they  think 
of  old  maids.  That 's  very  elegant,  and  I  'm  sure  it 's 
refined,"  said  she,  pointing  to  the  mass  of  fruit  and  flow- 
ers so  tastefully  arranged  before  her.  ''But  I  was  born  in 
a  time  when  people  liked  to  see  what  they  were  going 
to  eat,  Mathew  Kearney,  and  as  I  don't  intend  to  break 
my  fast  on  a  stock-gillyflower,  or  make  a  repast  of  raisins, 
I  prefer  the  old  way.  Fill  up  my  glass  whenever  it's 
empty,"  said  she  to  the  servant,  "  and  don't  bother  me  with 
the  name  of  it.  As  long  as  1  know  the  King's  County, 
and  that 's  more  than  fifty  years,  we  've  been  calling  Cape 
Madeira  Sherry  1  " 

"  If  we  know  what  we  are  drinking,  Miss  O'Shea,  I  don't 
suppose  it  matters  much." 

"  Nothing  at  all,  Mathew.  Calling  you  the  Viscount 
Kilgobbin,  as  I  read  awhile  ago,  won't  confuse  me  about 
an  old  neighbor." 

"Won't  you  try  a  cutlet,  godmother?"  asked  Kate, 
hurriedly. 

"  Indeed,  I  will,  my  dear.  I  don't  know  why  I  was  send- 
ing the  man  away.  I  never  saw  this  way  of  dining  before, 
except  at  the  poorhouse,  where  each  poor  creature  has  his 
plateful  given  him,  and  pockets  what  he  can't  eat."  And 
here  she  laughed  long  and  heartily  at  the  conceit. 

Kearney's  good-humor  relished  the  absurdity,  and  he 
joined  in  the  laugh,  while  Nina  stared  at  the  old  woman  as 
an  object  of  dread  and  terror. 

"And  that  boy  that  wouldn't  dine  with  us.  How  is  he 
turning  out,  Mathew  ?  They  tell  me  he 's  a  bit  of  a 
scamp." 

"He's  no  such  thing,  godmother.  Dick  is  as  good  a 
fellow  and  as  right-minded  as  ever  lived,  and  you  yourself 
would  be  the  first  to  say  it,  if  you  saw  him,"  cried  Kate, 
angrily. 

"  So  would  the  young  lady  yonder,  if  I  might  judge  from 
her  blushes,"  said  Miss  Betty,  looking  at  Nina.  "  Not 
indeed  but  it 's  only  now  I  'm  remembering  that  you  're  not  a 
boy.  That  little  red  cap  and  that  thing  you  wear  round 
your  throat  deceived  me." 


166  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 


(( 


It  is  not  the  lot  of  every  one  to  be  so  fortunate  in  a 
head-dress  as  Miss  O'Shea,"  said  Nina,  very  calmly. 

"If  it's  my  wig  you  are  envying  me,  my  dear,"  replied 
she,  quietly,  "there's  nothing  easier  than  to  have  the  own 
brother  of  it.  It  was  made  by  Crimp,  of  Nassau  Street,  and 
box  and  all  cost  four  pound  twelve." 

"  Upon  my  life,  Miss  Betty,"  broke  in  Kearney,  "  you  are 
tempting  me  to  an  extravagance."  And  he  passed  his  hand 
over  his  sparsely  covered  head  as  he  spoke. 

"  And  I  would  not,  if  I  was  you,  Mathew  Kearney,"  said 
she,  resolutely.  "  They  tell  me  that  in  that  House  of  Lords 
you  are  going  to,  more  than  half   of  them  are  bald." 

There  was  no  possible  doubt  that  she  meant  by  this  speech 
to  deliver  a  challenge ;  and  Kate's  look,  at  once  imploring 
and  sorrowful,  appealed  to  her  for  mercy. 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  Miss  Betty,  to  the  servant  who 
presented  a  dish,  "  though  indeed,  maybe,  I'm  wrong,  for  I 
don't  know  what's  coming." 

"  This  is  the  menu^'  said  Nina,  handing  a  card  to  her. 

"  The  bill  of  fare,  godmother,"  said  Kate,  hastily. 

"Well,  indeed,  it's  a  kindness  to  tell  me,  and  if  there 
is  any  more  novelties  to  follow,  perhaps  you'll  be  kind 
enough  to  inform  me,  for  I  never  dined  in  the  Greek  fashion 
before." 

"The  Russian,  I  believe,  madam,  not  the  Greek,"  said 
Nina. 

"With  all  my  heart,  my  dear.  It's  about  the  same,  for 
whatever  may  happen  to  Mathew  Kearney  or  myself,  I  don't 
suspect  either  of  us  will  go  to  live  at  Moscow." 

' '  You  '11  not  refuse  a  glass  of  port  with  your  cheese  ?  '* 
said  Kearney. 

"Indeed  I  will,  then,  if  there's  any  beer  in  the  house, 
though  perhaps  it's  too  vulgar  a  liquor  to  ask  for." 

While  the  beer  was  being  brought,  a  solemn  silence  ensued, 
and  a  less  comfortable  party  could  not  easily  be  imagined. 

When  the  interval  had  been  so  far  prolonged  that  Kearney 
himself  saw  the  necessity  to  do  something,  he  placed  his 
napkin  on  the  table,  leaned  forward  with  a  half  motion  of 
rising,  and,  addressing  Miss  Betty,  said,  "  Shall  we  adjourn 
to  the  drawing-room  and  take  our  coffee  ?  " 


A   SMALL   DINNER-PARTY.  167 

*'  I'd  rather  stay  where  I  am,  Mathew  Kearney,  and  have 
that  glass  of  port  you  offered  me  awhile  ago,  for  the  beer 
was  flat.  Not  that  I  '11  detain  the  young  people,  nor  keep 
yourself  away  from  them  very  long." 

When  the  two  girls  withdrew,  Nina's  look  of  insolent 
triumph  at  Kate  betrayed  the  tone  she  was  soon  to  take  in 
treating  of  the  old  lady's  good  manners. 

"You  had  a  very  sorry  dinner.  Miss  Betty,  but  I  can 
promise  you  an  honest  glass  of  wine,"  said  Kearney,  filling 
her  glass. 

"It's  very  nice,"  said  she,  sipping  it,  "though,  maybe, 
like  myself,  it's  just  a  trifle  too  old." 

"A  good  fault.  Miss  Betty,  a  good  fault." 

"  For  the  wine,  perhaps,"  said  she,  dryly,  "  but  maybe  it 
would  taste  better  if  I  had  not  bought  it  so  dearly." 

"  I  don't  think  I  understand  you." 

"I  was  about  to  say  that  I  have  forfeited  that  young 
lady's  esteem  by  the  way  I  obtained  it.  She  '11  never  forgive 
me,  instead  of  retiring  for  my  coffee,  sitting  here  like  a  man 
—  and  a  man  of  that  old  hard-drinking  school, JMathew,  that 
has  brought  all  the  ruin  on  Ireland." 

"  Here  's  to  their  memory,  any  way,"  said  Kearney,  drink- 
ing off  his  glass. 

"I'll  drink  no  toasts  nor  sentiments,  Mathew  Kearney, 
and  there  's  no  artifice  or  roguery  will  make  me  forget  I  'm  a 
woman  and  an  O'Shea." 

"  Faix,  you'll  not  catch  me  forgetting  either,"  said 
Mathew,  with  a  droll  twinkle  of  his  eye,  which  it  was  just 
as  fortunate  escaped  her  notice. 

"  I  doubted  for  a  long  time,  Mathew  Kearney,  whether  I  'd 
come  over  myself,  or  whether  I'd  write  you  a  letter;  not 
that  I'm  good  at  writing,  but  somehow  one  can  put  their 
ideas  more  clear,  and  say  things  in  a  way  that  will  fix  them 
more  in  the  mind  ;  but  at  last  I  determined  I  'd  come,  though 
it 's  more  than  likely  it 's  the  last  time  Kilgobbin  will  see  me 
here." 

"  I  sincerely  trust  you  are  mistaken,  so  far." 

"Well,  Mathew,  I'm  not  often  mistaken!  The  woman 
that  has  managed  an  estate  for  more  than  forty  years,  been 
her  own  land-steward  and  her  own  law-agent,  does  n't  make 


168  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

a  great  many  blunders ;  and,  as  I  said  before,  if  Mathew  has 
no  friend  to  tell  bim  the  truth  among  the  men  of  his  ac- 
quaintance, it 's  well  that  there  is  a  woman  to  the  fore,  who 
has  courage  and  good  sense  to  go  up  and  do  it." 

She  looked  fixedly  at  him,  as  though  expecting  some  con- 
currence in  the  remark,  if  not  some  intimation  to  proceed ; 
but  neither  came,  and  she  continued. 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  read  the  Dublin  newspapers?  "  said 
she,  civilly. 

''  I  do,  and  every  day  the  post  brings  them." 

''  You  see,  therefore,  without  my  telling  you,  what  the 
world  is  saying  about  you.  You  see  how  they  treat  'the 
search  for  arms,'  as  they  head  it,  and  '  the  maid  of  Sara- 
gossa ' !  Oh,  Mathew  Kearney  !  Mathew  Kearney  !  whatever 
happened  the  old  stock  of  the  land,  they  never  made  them- 
selves ridiculous." 

"  Have  you  done.  Miss  Betty?"  asked  he,  with  assumed 
calm. 

''Done!  Why,  it's  only  beginning  I  am,"  cried  she. 
"  Not  but  I  'd  bear  a  deal  of  blackguarding  from  the  press,. 
as  the  old  woman  said  when  the  soldier  threatened  to  run 
his  bayonet  through  her :  '  Devil  thank  j'^ou,  it 's  only  your 
trade.'  But  when  we  come  to  see  the  head  of  an  old  family 
making  ducks  and  drakes  of  his  family  property,  threatening 
the  old  tenants  that  have  been  on  the  land  as  long  as  hi& 
own  people,  raising  the  rent  here,  evicting  there,  distressing 
the  people's  minds  when  they  've  just  as  much  as  they  can 
to  bear  up  with,  —  then  it 's  time  for  an  old  friend  and 
neighbor  to  give  a  timely  warning,  and  cry,  '  Stop.' 

"  Have  you  done.  Miss  Betty?  "  And  now  his  voice  was 
more  stern  than  before. 

"  I  have  not,  nor  near  done,  Mathew  Kearney.  I've  said 
nothing  of  the  way  you  're  bringing  up  your  family  —  that 
son,  in  particular  —  to  make  him  think  himself  a  young  man 
of  fortune,  when  you  know,  in  your  heart,  you  '11  leave  him 
little  more  than  the  mortgages  on  the  estate.  I  have  not 
told  you  that  it 's  one  of  the  jokes  of  the  capital  to  call  him 
the  Honorable  Dick  Kearney,  and  to  ask  him  after  his^ 
father  the  Viscount." 

"You  haven't  done  yet.  Miss  O'Shea?"  said  he,  now 
with  a  thickened  voice. 


A   SMALL  DINNER-PARTY.  169 

'*No,  not  yet,"  replied  she,  calmly,  "not  yet;  for  I'd 
like  to  remind  you  of  the  way  you  're  behaving  to  the  best 
of  the  whole  of  you,  —  the  only  one,  indeed,  that 's  worth 
much  in  the  family, — your  daughter  Kate." 

"  Well,  what  have  I  done  to  wrong  lier?^'  said  he,  carried 
beyond  his  prudence  by  so  astounding  a  charge. 

"The  very  worst  you  could  do,  Mathew  Kearney;  the 
only  mischief  it  was  in  your  power,  maybe.  Look  at  the 
companion- you  have  given  her!  Look  at  the  respectable 
young  lady  you  've  brought  home  to  live  with  your  decent 
child !  " 

"  You  '11  not  stop?  "  cried  he,  almost  choking  with  passion. 

"  Not  till  I've  told  you  why  I  came  here,  Mathew  Kear- 
ney ;  for  I  'd  beg  you  to  understand  it  was  no  interest  about 
yourself  or  your  doings  brought  me.  I  came  to  tell  you 
that  I  mean  to  be  free  about  an  old  contract  we  once  made,  — 
that  I  revoke  it  all.  I  was  fool  enough  to  believe  that  an 
alliance  between  our  families  would  have  made  me  entirely 
happy,  and  my  nephew  Gorman  O'Shea  was  brought  up  to 
think  the  same.  I  have  lived  to  know  better,  Mathew  Kear- 
ney ;  I  have  lived  to  see  that  we  don't  suit  each  other  at  all, 
and  I  have  come  here  to  declare  to  you  formally  that  it 's  all 
off.  No  nephew  of  mine  shall  come  here  for  a  wife.  The 
heir  to  Shea's  Barn  sha'  n't  bring  the  mistress  of  it  out  of 
Kilgobbin  Castle." 

"  Trust  me  for  that,  old  lady !  "  cried  he,  forgetting  all  his 
good  manners  in  his  violent  passion. 

"You'll  be  all  the  freer  to  catch  a  young  aide-de-camp 
from  the  Castle,"  said  she,  sneeringly ;  "  or  maybe,  indeed, 
a  young  Lord,  —  a  rank  equal  to  your  own." 

"Haven't  you  said  enough?"  screamed  he,  wild  with 
rage. 

"  No,  nor  half,  or  you  would  n't  be  standing  there,  wring- 
ing your  hands  with  passion  and  your  hair  bristling  like  a 
porcupine.  You  'd  be  at  my  feet,  Mathew  Kearney,  —  ay, 
at  my  feet." 

"  So  I  would,  Miss  Betty,"  chimed  he  in,  with  a  malicious 
grin,  "if  I  was  only  sure  you'd  be  as  cruel  as  the  last 
time  I  knelt  there.  Oh  dear  !  oh  dear !  and  to  think  that  I 
once  wanted  to  marry  that  woman  !  " 


170  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  That  you  did  !  You  'd  have  put  your  hand  in  the  fire  to 
win  her." 

"  By  my  conscience,  I  'd  have  put  myself  altogether  there, 
if  I  had  won  her." 

''You  understand  now,  sir,"  said  she,  haughtily,  "that 
there's  no  more  between  us." 

''  Thank  God  for  the  same !  "  ejaculated  he,  fervently. 

' '  And  that  no  nephew  of  mine  comes  courting  a  daughter 
of  yours?  " 

"  For  his  own  sake,  he  'd  better  not." 

"It's  for  his  own  sake  I  intend  it,  Mathew  Kearney. 
It 's  of  himself  I  'm  thinking.  And  now,  thanking  you 
for  the  pleasant  evening  I  've  passed  and  your  charming 
society,  I  '11  take  my  leave." 

"  I  hope  you'll  not  rob  us  of  your  company  till  you  take 
a  dish  of  tea,"  said  he,  with  well- feigned  politeness. 

"  It 's  hard  to  tear  one's  self  away,  Mr.  Kearney ;  but  it 's 
late  already." 

"  Could  n't  we  induce  you  to  stop  the  night.  Miss  Betty?  " 
asked  he,  in  a  tone  of  insinuation.  "  Well,  at  least  you'll 
let  me  ring  to  order  your  horse  ?  " 

"  You  may  do  that  if  it  amuses  you,  Mathew  Kearney ;  but 
meanwhile  I  '11  just  do  what  1  've  always  done  in  the  same 
place,  —  I  '11  just  go  look  for  my  own  beast  and  see  her 
saddled  myself;  and  as  Peter  Gill  is  leaving  you  to- 
morrow, I  '11  take  him  back  with  me  to-night." 

"  Is  he  going  to  you?"  cried  he,  passionately. 

"He's  going  to  me,  Mr.  Kearney,  with  your  leave,  or 
without  it,  I  don't  know  which  I  like  best."  And  with  this 
she  swept  out  of  the  room,  while  Kearney  closed  his  eyes 
and  lay  back  in  his  chair,  stunned  and  almost  stupefied. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A    CONFIDENTIAL    TALK. 

Dick  Kearney  walked  the  bog  from  early  morning  till  dark 
without  firing  a  shot.  The  snipe  rose  almost  at  his  feet,  and, 
wheeling  in  circles  through  the  air,  dipped  again  into  some 
dark  crevice  of  the  waste,  unnoticed  by  him !  One  thought 
only  possessed,  and  never  left  him,  as  he  went.  He  had 
overheard  Nina's  words  to  his  sister,  as  he  made  his  escape 
over  the  fence,  and  learned  how  she  promised  to  "spare 
him  ; "  and  that,  if  not  worried  about  him,  or  asked  to  pledge 
herself,  she  should  be  "  merciful,"  and  not  entangle  the  boy 
in  a  hopeless  passion. 

He  would  have  liked  to  have  scoffed  at  the  insolence 
of  this  speech,  and  treated  it  as  a  trait  of  overweening 
vanitj^ ;  he  would  have  gladly  accepted  her  pity  as  a  sort 
of  challenge,  and  said,  "Be  it  so;  let  us  see  who  will 
come  safest  out  of  this  encounter,"  and  yet  he  felt  in  his 
heart  he  could  not. 

First  of  all,  her  beauty  had  really  dazzled  him,  and 
the  thousand  graces  of  a  manner  of  which  he  had  known 
nothing  captivated  and  almost  bewildered  him.  He  could 
not  reply  to  her  in  the  same  tone  he  used  to  any  other. 
If  he  fetched  her  a  book  or  a  chair,  he  gave  it  with  a 
sort  of  deference  that  actually  reacted  on  himself,  and 
made  him  more  gentle  and  more  courteous  for  the  time. 
' '  What  would  this  influence  end  in  making  me  ?  "  was  his 
question  to  himself.  "  Should  I  gain  in  sentiment  or 
feeling?  Should  I  have  higher  and  nobler  aims?  Should 
I  be  anything  of  that  she  herself  described  so  glowingly, 
or  should  I  only  sink  to  a  weak  desire  to  be  her  slave,  and 
ask  for  nothing  better  than  some  slight  recognition  of 
my   devotion?     I   take   it,  that   she  would   say  the  choice 


172  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

lay  with  Aer,  and  that  I  should  be  the  one  or  the  other 
as  she  willed  it,  and  though  I  would  give  much  to  believe 
her  wrong,  my  heart  tells  me  that  I  cannot.  I  came  down 
here  resolved  to  resist  any  influence  she  might  attempt  to 
have  over  me.  Her  likeness  showed  me  how  beautiful  she 
was,  but  it  could  not  tell  me  the  dangerous  fascination  of  her 
low  liquid  voice,  her  half-playful,  half- melancholy  smile,  and 
that  bewitching  walk,  with  all  its  stately  grace,  so  that  every 
fold  as  she  moves  sends  its  own  thrill  of  ecstasy.  And  now 
that  I  know  all  these,  see  and  feel  them,  I  am  told  that  to 
me  they  can  bring  no  hope !  That  I  am  too  poor,  too  igno- 
ble, too  undistinguished,  to  raise  my  eyes  to  such  attraction. 
I  am  nothing,  and  must  live  and  die  nothing. 

"  She  is  candid  enough,  at  all  events.  There  is  no  rhap- 
sody about  her  when  she  talks  of  poverty.  She  chronicles 
every  stage  of  the  misery,  as  though  she  had  felt  them  all ; 
and  how  unlike  it  she  looks !  There  is  an  almost  insolent 
well-being  about  her  that  puzzles  me.  She  will  not  heed 
this,  or  suffer  that,  because  it  looks  mean.  Is  this  the  subtle 
worship  she  offers  Wealth,  and  is  it  thus  she  offers  up  her 
prayer  to  Fortune? 

"But  why  should  she  assume  I  must  be  her  slave?  "  cried 
he  aloud,  in  a  sort  of  defiance.  "I  have  shown  her  no  such 
preference,  nor  made  any  advances  that  would  show  I  want 
to  win  her  favor.  Without  denying  that  she  is  beautiful, 
is  it  so  certain  it  is  the  kind  of  beauty  I  admire?  She  has 
scores  of  fascinations ;  I  do  not  deny  it.  But  should  I  sa3 
that  I  trust  her?  And  if  I  should  trust  her  and  love  her 
too,  where  must  it  all  end  in?  I  do  not  believe  in  her 
theory  that  love  will  transform  a  fellow  of  my  mould  into  a 
hero;  not  to  say  that  I  have  my  own  doubt  if  she  herself 
believes  it.  I  wonder  if  Kate  reads  her  more  clearly? 
Girls  so  often  understand  each  other  by  traits  we  have  no 
clew  to;  and  it  was  Kate  who  asked  her,  almost  in  tone  of 
entreaty,  '  to  spare  me, '  to  save  me  from  a  hopeless  passion, 
just  as  though  I  were  some  peasant-boy  who  had  set  his 
affection  on  a  princess.  Is  that  the  way,  then,  the  world 
would  read  our  respective  conditions?  The  son  of  a  ruined 
house  or  the  guest  of  a  beggared  family  leaves  little  to 
choose  between !     Kate  —  the  world  —  would  call  my  lot  the 


A  CONFIDENTIAL  TALK.  173 

better  of  the  two.  The  man's  chance  is  not  irretrievable; 
at  least,  such  is  the  theory.  Those  half-dozen  fellows,  who 
in  a  century  or  so  contrive  to  work  their  way  up  to  some- 
thing, make  a  sort  of  precedent,  and  tell  the  others  what 
they  might  be  if  they  but  knew  how. 

'^I  'm  not  vain  enough  to  suppose  I  am  one  of  these,  and 
it  is  quite  plain  that  she  does  not  think  me  so."  He  pon- 
dered long  over  this  thought,  and  then  suddenly  cried  aloud, 
"  Is  it  possible  she  may  read  Joe  Atlee  in  this  fashion  ?  is 
that  the  stuff  out  of  which  she  hopes  to  make  a  hero?" 
There  was  more  bitterness  in  this  thought  than  he  had  first 
imagined,  and  there  was  that  of  jealousy  in  it,  too,  that 
pained  him  deeply. 

Had  she  preferred  either  of  the  two  Englishmen  to  him- 
self, he  could  have  understood  and,  in  a  measure,  accepted 
it.  They  were,  as  he  called  them,  "swells."  They  might 
become,  he  knew  not  what.  The  career  of  the  Saxon  in 
fortune  was  a  thing  incommensurable  by  Irish  ideas ;  but  Joe 
was  like  himself,  or  in  reality  less  than  himself,  in  worldly 
advantages. 

This  pang  of  jealousy  was  very  bitter ;  but  still  it  served 
to  stimulate  him  and  rouse  him  from  a  depression  that  was 
gaining  fast  upon  him.  It  is  true  he  remembered  she  had 
spoken  slightingly  of  Joe  Atlee;  called  him  noisy,  preten- 
tious, even  vulgar;  snubbed  him  openly  on  more  than  one 
occasion,  and  seemed  to  like  to  turn  the  laugh  against  him ; 
but  with  all  that  she  had  sung  duets  with  him,  corrected 
some  Italian  verses  he  wrote,  and  actually  made  a  little 
sketch  in  his  note-book  for  him  as  a  souvenir.  A  souvenir! 
and  of  what?  Not  of  the  ridicule  she  had  turned  upon  him! 
not  the  jest  she  had  made  upon  his  boastfulness.  Now, 
which  of  these  two  did  this  argue ;  was  this  levity,  or  was  it 
falsehood?  Was  she  so  little  mindful  of  honesty  that  she 
would  show  these  signs  of  favor  to  one  she  held  most 
cheaply,  or  was  it  that  her  distaste  to  this  man  was  mere 
pretence,  and  only  assumed  to  deceive  others? 

After  all,  Joe  Atlee  was  a  nobody ;  flattery  might  call  him 
an  adventurer,  but  he  was  not  even  so  much.  Amongst  the 
men  of  the  dangerous  party  he  mixed  with,  he  was  careful 
never  to  compromise  himself.     He  might  write  the  songs 


174  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

of  rebellion,  but  he  was  little  likely  to  tamper  with  treason 
itself.  So  much  he  would  tell  her  when  he  got  back.  Not 
angrily,  nor  passionately,  for  that  would  betray  him  and 
disclose  his  jealousy;  but  in  the  tone  of  a  man  revealing 
something  he  regretted,  — confessing  to  the  blemish  of  one 
he  would  have  liked  better  to  speak  well  of.  There  was  not, 
he  thought,  anything  unfair  in  this.  He  was  but  warning 
her  against  a  man  who  was  unworthy  of  her.  Unworthy  of 
her!  What  words  could  express  the  disparity  between 
them?  Not  but  if  she  liked  him,  — and  this  he  said  with  a 
certain  bitterness,  —  or  thought  she  liked  him,  the  dispro- 
portion already  ceased  to  exist. 

Hour  after  hour  of  that  long  summer  day  he  walked, 
revolving  such  thoughts  as  these;  all  his  conclusions  tending 
to  the  one  point,  that  he  was  not  the  easy  victim  she  thought 
him,  and  that,  come  what  might,  he  should  not  be  offered 
up  as  a  sacrifice  to  her  worship  of  Joe  Atlee. 

"There  is  nothing  would  gratify  the  fellow's  vanity," 
thought  he,  "like  a  successful  rivalry  of  him!  Tell  him  he 
was  preferred  to  me,  and  he  would  be  ready  to  fall  down  and 
worship  whoever  had  made  the  choice." 

By  dwelling  on  all  the  possible  and  impossible  issues  of 
such  an  attachment,  he  had  at  length  convinced  himself  of 
its  existence;  and  even  more,  persuaded  himself  to  fancy  it 
was  something  to  be  regretted  and  grieved  over  for  worldly 
considerations,  but  not  in  any  way  regarded  as  personally 
unpleasant. 

As  he  came  in  sight  of  home  and  saw^  a  light  in  the  small 
tower  where  Kate's  bedroom  lay,  he  determined  he  would 
go  up  to  his  sister  and  tell  her  so  much  of  his  mind  as  he 
believed  was  finally  settled,  and  in  such  a  way  as  would 
certainly  lead  her  to  repeat  it  to  Nina. 

"  Kate  shall  tell  her  that  if  I  have  left  her  suddenly  and 
gone  back  to  Trinity  to  keep  my  term,  I  have  not  fled  the 
field  in  a  moment  of  faint-heartedness.  1  do  not  deny  her 
beauty.  I  do  not  disparage  one  of  her  attractions,  and  she 
has  scores  of  them.  I  will  not  even  say  that  when  I  have 
sat  beside  her,  heard  her  low  soft  voice,  and  watched  the 
tremor  of.  that  lovely  mouth  vibrating  with  wit  or  tremulous 
with  feeling,  I  have  been  all  indifference;  but  this  1  will 


A  CONFIDENTIAL  TALK.  175 

say,  she  shall  not  number  me  amongst  the  victims  of  her 
fascinations ;  and  when  she  counts  the  trinkets  on  her  wrist 
that  record  the  hearts  she  has  broken,  —  a  pastime  I  once 
witnessed,  —  not  one  of  them  shall  record  the  initial  of  Dick 
Kearney." 

With  these  brave  words  he  mounted  the  narrow  stair  and 
knocked  at  his  sister's  door.  No  answer  coming,  he 
knocked  again,  and  after  waiting  a  few  seconds,  he  slowl}^ 
opened  the  door  and  saw  that  Kate,  still  dressed,  had 
thrown  herself  on  her  bed,  and  was  sound  asleep.  The  table 
was  covered  with  account-books  and  papers.  Tax  receipts, 
law  notices,  and  tenants'  letters  lay  littered  about,  showing 
what  had  been  the  task  she  was  last  engaged  on ;  and  her 
heavy  breathing  told  the  exhaustion  which  it  had  left  be- 
hind it. 

"I  wish  I  could  help  her  with  her  work,"  muttered  he  to 
himself,  as  a  pang  of  self-reproach  shot  through  him.  This 
certainly  should  have  been  his  own  task  rather  than  hers ; 
the  question  was,  however.  Could  he  have  done  it?  And 
this  doubt  increased  as  he  looked  over  the  long  column  of 
tenants'  names,  whose  holdings  varied  in  every  imaginable 
quantity  of  acres,  roods,  and  perches.  Besides  these  there 
were  innumerable  small  details  of  allowances  for  this  and 
compensation  for  that.  This  one  had  given  so  many  days' 
horse-and-car  hire  at  the  bog ;  that  other  had  got  advances 
"in  seed-potatoes;"  such  a  one  had  a  claim  for  reduced 
rent,  because  the  mill-race  had  overflowed  and  deluged  his 
wheat  crop;  such  another  had  fed  two  pigs  of  "the  Lord's," 
and  fattened  them,  while  himself  and  his  own  were  nigh 
starving. 

Through  an  entire  column  there  was  not  one  case  without 
its  complication,  either  in  the  shape  of  argument  for  in- 
creased liability,  or  claim  for  compensation.  It  was  make- 
shift everywhere,  and  Dick  could  not  but  ask  himself 
whether  any  tenant  on  the  estate  really  knew  how  far  he  was 
hopelessly  in  debt  or  a  solvent  man  ?  It  only  needed  Peter 
Gill's  peculiar  mode  of  collecting  the  moneys  due,  and 
recording  the  payment  by  the  notched  stick,  to  make  the 
complication  perfect;  and  there,  -indeed,  upon  the  table, 
amid  accounts  and  bills  and  sale  warrants,  lay  the  memo- 


176  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

rable  bits  of  wood  themselves,  as  that  worthy  steward  had 
deposited  them  before  quitting  his  master's  service. 

Peter's  character,  too,  written  out  in  Kate's  hand,  and 
only  awaiting  her  father's  signature,  was  on  the  table,  — the 
first  intimation  Dick  Kearney  had  that  old  Gill  had  quitted 
his  post. 

"All  this  must  have  occurred  to-day,"  thought  Dick. 
"There  were  no  evidences  of  these  changes  when  I  left  this 
morning !  Was  it  the  backwater  of  my  disgrace,  I  wonder, 
that  has  overwhelmed  poor  Gill?"  thought  he,  "or  can  I 
detect  Miss  Betty's  fine  Roman  hand  in  this  incident?" 

In  proportion  to  the  little  love  he  bore  Miss  O'Shea,  were 
his  convictions  the  stronger  that  she  was  the  cause  of  all 
mischief.  She  was  one  of  those  who  took  very  "utilitarian  " 
notions  of  his  own  career,  and  he  bore  her  small  gratitude 
for  the  solicitude.  There  were  short  sentences  in  pencil 
along  the  margin  of  the  chief  book  in  Kate's  handwriting 
which  could  not  fail  to  strike  him  as  he  read  them,  indicat- 
ing, as  they  did,  her  diflSculty,  if  not  utter  incapacity,  to 
deal  with  the  condition  of  the  estate.     Thus:  — 

*'  There  is  no  warranty  for  this  concession.  It  cannot  be  con- 
tinued." "The  notice  in  this  case  was  duly  served,  and  Gill 
knows  that  it  was  to  papa's  generosity  they  were  indebted  for  remain- 
ing." "  These  arrears  have  never  been  paid,  on  that  point  I  am 
positive!"  "Malone's  holding  was  not  fairly  measured;  he  has 
a  just  claim  to  compensation,  and  shall  have  it."  "  Hannigan's 
right  to  tenancy  must  not  be  disputed,  but  cannot  be  used  as 
a  precedent  by  others  on  the  same  part  of  the  estate,  and  I  will  state 
why."  "More  of  Peter  Gill's  conciliatory  policy  !  The  Regans,  for 
having  been  twice  in  jail,  and  once  indicted,  and  nearly  convicted  of 
Ribbonism,  have  established  a  claim  to  live  rent-free  !  This  I  will 
promise  to  rectify."  "  I  shall  make  no  more  allowances  for  improve- 
ments without  a  guarantee,  and  a  penalty  besides  on  non-completion." 

And  last  of  all  came  these  ominous  words :  — 

"  It  will  thiis  be  seen  that  our  rent-roll  since  '64  has  been  pro- 
gressively decreasing,  and  that  we  have  only  been  able  to  supply  our 
expenses  by  sales  of  property.  Dick  must  be  spoken  to  on  this, 
and  at  once." 

Several  entries  had  been  already  rubbed  out,  and  it  was 


A  CONFIDENTIAL  TALK.  177 

clear  that  she  had  been  occupied  in  the  task  of  erasion  on 
that  very  night.  Poor  girl !  her  sleep  was  the  heavy  repose 
of  one  utterly  exhausted;  and  her  closely  clasped  lips  and 
corrugated  brow  showed  in  what  frame  of  intense  thought 
she  had  sunk  to  rest.  He  closed  the  book  noiselessly,  as  he 
looked  at  her,  replaced  the  various  objects  on  the  table, 
and  rose  to  steal  quietly  away. 

The  accidental  movement  of  a  chair,  however,  startled 
her ;  she  turned,  and,  leaning  on  her  elbow,  she  saw  him  as 
he  tried  to  move  away.  "Don't  go,  Dick;  don't  go.  I  'm 
awake,  and  quite  fresh  again.     Is  it  late?" 

"It's  not  far  from  one  o'clock,"  said  he,  half  roughly, 
to  hide  his  emotion;  for  her  worn  and  wearied  features 
struck  him  now  more  forcibly  than  when  she  slept. 

"  And  are  you  only  returned  now  ?  How  hungry  3^ou  must 
be !     Poor  fellow,  —  have  you  dined  to-day  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  got  to  Owen  MoUoy's  as  they  were  straining  the 
potatoes,  and  sat  down  with  them,  and  ate  very  heartily, 
too." 

"Weren't  they  proud  of  it?  Won't  they  tell  how  the 
young  Lord  shared  their  meal  with  them  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  they  are  as  cordial  as  they  used  to  be, 
Kate ;  they  did  not  talk  so  openly,  nor  seem  at  their  ease, 
as  I  once  knew  them.  And  they  did  one  thing  significant 
enough  in  its  way,  that  I  did  not  like.  They  quoted  the 
county  newspaper  twice  or  thrice  when  we  talked  of  the 
land." 

"I  am  aware  of  that,  Dick;  they  have  got  other  coun- 
sellors than  their  landlords  now,"  said  she,  mournfully, 
"and  it  is  our  own  fault  if  they  have." 

"What,  are  you  turning  nationalist,  Kitty?"  said  he, 
laughing. 

"I  was  always  a  nationalist  in  one  sense,"  said  she,  "and 
mean  to  continue  so;  but  let  us  not  get  upon  this  theme. 
Do  you  know  that  Peter  Gill  has  left  us  ?  " 

"What,  for  America?" 

"No;  for  '  O'Shea's  Barn.'  Miss  Betty  has  taken  him. 
She  came  here  to-day  to  '  have  it  out '  with  papa,  as  she 
said;  and  she  has  kept  her  word.  Indeed,  not  alone  with 
him,  but  with  all  of  us,  —  even  Nina  did  not  escape." 

12 


178  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"Insufferable  old  woman!  What  did  she  dare  to  say  to 
Nina?" 

"She  got  off  the  cheapest  of  us  all,  Dick,"  said  she, 
laughing.  "It  was  only  some  stupid  remark  she  made  her 
about  looking  like  a  boy,  or  being  dressed  like  a  rope- 
dancer.  A  small  civility  of  this  sort  was  her  share  of  the 
general  attention." 

"And  how  did  Nina  take  the  insolence?  " 

"With  great  good  temper  or  good  breeding.  1  don't 
know  exactly  which  covered  the  indifference  she  displayed, 
till  Miss  Betty,  when  taking  her  leave,  renewed  the  imper- 
tinence in  the  hall,  by  saying  something  about  the  trium- 
phant success  such  a  costume  would  achieve  in  the  circus, 
when  Nina  courtesied,  and  said,  '  I  am  charmed  to  hear  you 
say  so,  madam,  and  shall  wear  it  for  my  benefit;  and  if  I 
could  only  secure  the  appearance  of  yourself  and  your  little 
groom,  my  triumph  would  be,  indeed,  complete.'  I  did 
not  dare  to  wait  for  more,  but  hurried  out  to  affect  to  busy 
myself  with  the  saddle,  and  pretend  that  it  was  not  tightly 
girthed." 

"I'd  have  given  twenty  pounds,  if  I  had  it,  to  have 
seen  the  old  woman's  face.  No  one  ever  ventured  before 
to  pay  her  back  with  her  own  money." 

"But  I  give  you  such  a  wrong  version  of  it,  Dick.  I 
only  convey  the  coarseness  of  the  rejoinder,  and  I  can  give 
you  no  idea  of  the  ineffable  grace  and  delicacy  which  made 
her  words  sound  like  a  humble  apology.  Her  eyelids 
drooped  as  she  courtesied ;  and  when  she  looked  up  again,  in 
a  way  that  seemed  humility  itself,  to  have  reproved  her 
would  have  appeared  downright  cruelty." 

"She  is  a  finished  coquette,"  said  he,  bitterly;  "a  finished 
coquette. " 

Kate  made  no  answer,  though  he  evidently  expected  one; 
and  after  waiting  awhile,  he  went  on:  "Not  but  her  high 
accomplishments  are  clean  thrown  away  in  such  a  place  as 
this  and  amongst  such  people.  What  chance  of  fitting 
exercise  have  they  with  my  father  or  myself?  Or  is  it  on 
Joe  Atlee  she  would  try  the  range  of  her  artillery  ?  " 

"Not  so  very  impossible,  this,  after  all,"  muttered  Kate, 
quietly. 


A  CONFIDENTIAL  TALK.  179 

"  What,  and  is  it  to  that  her  high  ambitions  tend  ?  Is  he 
the  prize  she  would  strive  to  win?  " 

"I  can  be  no  guide  to  you  in  this  matter,  Dick.  She 
makes  no  confidences  with  me,  and  of  myself  I  see 
nothing. " 

"You  have,  however,  some  influence  over  her." 

"No;  not  much." 

"  I  did  not  say  much ;  but  enough  to  induce  her  to  yield 
to  a  strong  entreaty,  as  when,  for  instance,  you  implored 
her  to  spare  your  brother,  —  that  poor  fellow  about  to  fall 
so  hopelessly  in  love  —  " 

"I'm  not  sure  that  my  request  did  not  come  too  late, 
after  all,"  said  she,  with  a  laughing  malice  in  her  eye. 

"Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  retorted  he,  almost  fiercely. 

"Oh,  I  never  bargained  for  what  you  might  do  in  a 
moment  of  passion  or  resentment." 

"There  is  neither  One  nor  the  other  here.  I  am  perfectly 
cool,  calm,  and  collected ;  and  I  tell  you  this :  that  whoever 
your  pretty  Greek  friend  is  to  make  a  fool  of,  it  shall  not 
be  Dick  Kearney." 

"It  might  be  very  nice  fooling,  all  the  same,  Dick." 

"I  know  —  that  is,  I  believe  I  know  —  what  you  mean. 
You  have  listened  to  some  of  those  high  heroics  she  ascends 
to  in  showing  what  the  exaltation  of  a  great  passion  can 
make  of  any  man  who  has  a  breast  capable  of  the  emotion, 
and  you  want  to  see  the  experiment  tried  in  its  least  favor- 
able conditions,  on  a  cold,  soulless,  selfish  fellow  of  my 
own  order;  but,  take  my  word  for  it,  Kate,  it  would  prove 
a  sheer  loss  of  time  to  us  both.  Whatever  she  might  make 
of  me,  it  would  not  be  a  hero  ;  and  whatever  I  should  strive 
for,  it  would  not  be  her  love.^' 

"I  don't  think  I  'd  say  that  if  I  were  a  man." 

He  made  no  answer  to  these  words,  but  arose  and  walked 
the  room  with  hasty  steps.  "It  was  not  about  these  things 
I  came  here  to  talk  to  you,  Kitty,"  said  he,  earnestly.  "I 
had  my  head  full  of  other  things,  and  now  I  cannot  remem- 
ber them.  Only  one  occurs  to  me.  Have  you  got  any  money  ? 
I  mean  a  mere  trifle,  —  enough  to  pay  my  fare  to  town  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  have  that  much,  Dick ;  but  you  are  surely 
not  going  to  leave  us  ?  " 


180  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

''Yes.  I  suddenly  remembered  I  must  be  up  for  the  last 
day  of  term  in  Trinity.  Knocking  about  here,  —  I  '11 
scarcely  say  amusing  myself,  —  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it. 
Atlee  used  to  jog  my  memory  on  these  things  when  he  was 
near  me ;  and  now,  being  away,  I  have  contrived  to  let  the 
whole  escape  me.  You  can  help  me,  however,  with  a  few 
pounds  ? " 

"I  have  got  five  of  my  own,  Dick;  but  if  you  want 
more  —  " 

"No,  no;  I'll  borrow  the  five  of  your  own,  and  don't 
blend  it  with  more,  or  I  may  cease  to  regard  it  as  a  debt  of 
honor." 

"And  if  you  should,  my  poor  dear  Dick  —  " 

"I  'd  be  only  pretty  much  what  I  have  ever  been,  but 
scarcely  wish  to  be  any  longer ; "  and  he  added  the  last 
words  in  a  whisper.  "It's  only  to  be  a  brief  absence, 
Kitty,"  said  he,  kissing  her;  "  so  say  good-bye  for  me  to  the 
others,  and  that  I  shall  be  soon  back  again." 

"Shall  I  kiss  Nina  for  you,  Dick?  " 

"Do;  and  tell  her  that  I  gave  you  the  same  commission 
for  Miss  O'Shea,  and  was  grieved  that  both  should  have 
been  done  by  deputy !  " 

And  with  this  he  hurried  away. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

A   HAPHAZARD    VICEROY. 

When  the  Government  came  into  office,  they  were  sorely  * 
puzzled  where  to  find  a  Lord  Lieutenant  for  Ireland.  It  is,  1 
unhappily,  a  post  that  the  men  most  fitted  for  generally  I 
refuse,  while  the  Cabinet  is  besieged  by  a  class  of  appli-  I 
cants  whose  highest  qualification  is  a  taste  for  mock  royalty  ( 
combined  with  an  encumbered  estate. 

Another  great  requisite,  beside  fortune  and  a  certain  : 
amount  of  ability,  was  at  this  time  looked  for.  The  Premier 
was  about,  as  newspapers  call  it,  "to  inaugurate  a  new 
policy,"  and  he  wanted  a  man  who  knew  nothing  about 
Ireland!  Now,  it  might  be  carelessly  imagined  that  here 
was  one  of  those  essentials  very  easily  supplied.  Any  man 
frequenting  club-life  or  dining  out  in  town  could  have  safely 
pledged  himself  to  tell  off  a  score  or  two  of  eligible  viceroys, 
so  far  as  this  qualification  went.  The  Minister,  however, 
wanted  more  than  mere  ignorance.  He  wanted  that  sort  of 
indifference  on  which  a  character  for  impartiality  could  so 
easily  be  constructed.  Not  alone  a  man  unacquainted  with 
Ireland,  but  actually  incapable  of  being  influenced  by  an 
Irish  motive  or  affected  by  an  Irish  view  of  anything. 

Good  luck  would  have  it  that  he  met  such  a  man  at  dinner. 
He  was  an  ambassador  at  Constantinople,  on  leave  from  his 
post,  and  so  utterly  dead  to  Irish  topics  as  to  be  uncertain 
whether  O' Donovan  Rossa  was  a  Fenian  or  a  Queen's  coun- 
sel, and  whether  he  whom  he  had  read  of  as  the  "Lion  of 
Judah  "  was  the  king  of  beasts  or  the  Archbishop  of  Tuam ! 

The  Minister  was  pleased  with  his  new  acquaintance,  and 
talked  much  to  him,  and  long.  He  talked  well,  and  not  the 
less  well  that  his  listener  was  a  fresh  audience,  who  heard 
everything  for  the  first  time,  and  with  all  the  interest  that 


182  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

attaches  to  a  new  topic.  Lord  Danesbury  was,  indeed,  that 
"sheet  of  white  paper"  the  head  of  the  Cabinet  had  long 
been  searching  for,  and  he  hastened  to  inscribe  him  with 
the  characters  he  wished. 

"You  must  go  to  Ireland  for  me,  my  Lord,"  said  the  Min- 
ister. "I  have  met  no  one  as  yet  so  rightly  imbued  with 
the  necessities  of  the  situation.     You  must  be  our  viceroy." 

Now,  though  a  very  high  post  and  with  great  surround- 
ings, Lord  Danesbury  had  no  desire  to  exchange  his  posi- 
tion as  an  ambassador,  even  to  become  a  Lord  Lieutenant. 
Like  most  men  who  have  passed  their  lives  abroad,  he  grew 
to  like  the  ways  and  habits  of  the  Continent.  He  liked 
the  easy  indulgences  in  many  things,  he  liked  the  cosmo- 
politanism that  surrounds  existence,  and  even  in  its  little- 
ness is  not  devoid  of  a  certain  breadth ;  and  best  of  all  he 
liked  the  vast  interests  at  stake,  the  large  questions  at  issue, 
the  fortunes  of  states,  the  fate  of  dynasties!  To  come 
down  from  the  great  game,  as  played  by  kings  and  kaisers, 
to  the  small  traffic  of  a  local  government  wrangling  over  a 
road-bill  or  disputing  over  a  harbor,  seemed  too  horrible 
to  confront,  and  he  eagerly  begged  the  Minister  to  allow 
him  to  return  to  his  post,  and  not  risk  a  hard-earned  repu- 
tation on  a  new  and  untried  career. 

"It  is  precisely  from  the  fact  of  its  being  new  and  un- 
tried I  need  you, "  was  the  reply ;  and  his  denial  was  not 
accepted. 

Refusal  was  impossible;  and,  with  all  the  reluctance  a 
man  consents  to  what  his  convictions  are  more  opposed  to 
even  than  his  reasons,  Lord  Danesbury  gave  in,  and  ac- 
cepted the  viceroyalty  of  Ireland. 

He  was  deferential  to  humility  in  listening  to  the  great 
aims  and  noble  conceptions  of  the  mighty  Minister,  and 
pledged  himself  —  as  he  could  safely  do  —  to  become  as 
plastic  as  wax  in  the  powerful  hands  which  were  about  to 
remodel  Ireland. 

He  was  gazetted  in  due  course,  went  over  to  Dublin,  made 
a  state  entrance,  received  the  usual  deputations,  .compli- 
mented every  one,  from  the  Provost  of  Trinity  College  to 
the  Chief  Commissioner  of  Pipewater;  praised  the  coast, 
the  corporation,  and  the  city ;  declared  that  he  had  at  length 


A   HAPHAZARD   VICEROY.  183 

reached  the  highest  goal  of  his  ambition;  entertained  the 
high  dignitaries  at  dinner,  and  the  week  after  retired  to 
his  ancestral  seat  in  North  Wales,  to  recruit  after  his  late 
fatigue,  and  throw  off  the  effects  of  that  damp,  moist  climate 
which  already  he  fancied  had  affected  him. 

He  had  been  sworn  in  with  every  solemnity  of  the  occa- 
sion ;  he  had  sat  on  the  throne  of  state,  named  the  officers 
of  his  household,  made  a  master  of  the  horse,  and  a  state 
steward,  and  a  grand  chamberlain;  and,  till  stopped  by 
hearing  that  he  could  not  create  ladies  and  maids  of  honor, 
he  fancied  himself  every  inch  a  king ;  but  now  that  he  had 
got  over  to  the  tranquil  quietude  of  his  mountain  home,  his 
thoughts  went  away  to  the  old  channels,  and  he  began  to 
dream  of  the  Russians  in  the  Balkan,  and  the  Greeks  in 
Thessaly.  Of  all  the  precious  schemes  that  had  taken  him 
months  to  weave,  what  was  to  come  of  them  now?  How 
and  with  what  would  his  successor,  whoever  he  should  be, 
oppose  the  rogueries  of  Sumayloff  or  the  chicanery  of 
Ignatief ;  what  would  any  man  not  trained  to  the  especial 
watchfulness  of  this  subtle  game  know  of  the  steps  by 
which  men  advanced  ?  Who  was  to  watch  Bulgaris,  and  see 
how  far  Russian  gold  was  embellishing  the  life  of  Athens  ? 
There  was  not  a  hungry  agent  that  lounged  about  the  Rus- 
sian embass}^  in  Greek  petticoats  and  pistols  whose  photo- 
graph the  English  ambassador  did  not  possess,  with  a 
biographical  note  at  the  back  to  tell  the  fellow's  name  and 
birthplace,  what  he  was  meant  for,  and  what  he  cost.  Of 
every  interview  of  his  countrymen  with  the  Grand  Vizier, 
he  was  kept  fully  informed,  and  whether  a  forage  magazine 
was  established  on  the  Pruth,  or  a  new  frigate  laid  down  at 
Nickolief,  the  news  reached  him  by  the  time  it  arrived  at 
St.  Petersburg.  It  is  true  he  was  aware  how  hopeless  it 
was  to  write  home  about  these  things.  The  ambassador 
who  writes  disagreeable  despatches  is  a  bore  or  an  old 
woman.  He  who  dares  to  shake  the  security  by  which  we 
daily  boast  we  are  surrounded,  is  an  alarmist,  if  not  worse. 
Notwithstanding  this,  he  held  his  cards  well  "up,"  and 
played  them  shrewdly.  And  now  he  was  to  turn  from  this 
crafty  game,  with  all  its  excitement,  to  pore  over  constabu- 
lary reports  and  snub  justices  of  the  peace! 


184  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

But  there  was  worse  than  this.  There  was  an  Albanian 
spy,  who  had  been  much  employed  by  him  of  late,  a  clever 
fellow,  with  access  to  society,  and  great  facilities  for 
obtaining  information.  Seeing  that  Lord  Danesbury  should 
not  return  to  the  embassy,  would  this  fellow  go  over  to  the 
enemy?  If  so,  there  were  no  words  for  the  mischief  he 
might  effect.  By  a  subordinate  position  in  a  Greek  govern- 
ment office,  he  had  often  been  selected  to  convey  despatches 
to  Constantinople,  and  it  was  in  this  way  his  Lordship 
first  met  him ;  and  as  the  fellow  frankly  presented  himself 
with  a  very  momentous  piece  of  news,  he  at  once  showed 
how  he  trusted  to  British  faith  not  to  betray  him.  It  was 
not  alone  the  incalculable  mischief  such  a  man  might  do  by 
change  of  allegiance,  but  the  whole  fabric  on  which  Lord 
Danesbury' s  reputation  rested  was  in  this  man's  keeping; 
and  of  all  that  wondrous  prescience  on  which  he  used  to 
pride  himself  before  the  world,  all  the  skill  with  which  he 
baffled  an  adversary,  and  all  the  tact  with  which  he  over- 
whelmed a  colleague,  this  same  "Speridionides"  could  give 
the  secret  and  show  the  trick. 

How  much  more  constantly,  then,  did  his  Lordship's 
thoughts  revert  to  the  Bosphorus  than  the  Liffy!  a]l  this 
home  news  was  mean,  commonplace,  and  vulgar.  The  whole 
drama,  —  scenery,  actors,  plot,  —  all  were  low  and  ignoble ; 
and  as  for  this  "something  that  was  to  be  done  for  Ireland," 
it  would  of  course  be  some  slowly  germinating  policy  to 
take  root  now,  and  blossom  in  another  half-century ;  one  of 
those  blessed  parliamentary  enactments  which  men  who 
dealt  in  heroic  remedies  like  himself  regarded  as  the  chronic 
placebo  of  the  political  Quack. 

"I  am  well  aware,"  cried  he,  aloud,  "for  what  they  are 
sending  me  over.  I  am  to  '  make  a  case  '  in  Ireland  for  a 
political  legislation,  and  the  bill  is  already  drawn  and  ready ; 
and  while  I  am  demonstrating  to  Irish  Churchmen  that  they 
will  be  more  jdIous  without  a  religion,  and"  the  landlords 
richer  without  rent,  the  Russians  will  be  mounting  guard  at 
the  Golden  Horn,  and  the  last  British  squadron  steaming 
down  the  Levant." 

It  was  in  a  temper  kindled  by  these  reflections  he  wrote 
this  note :  — 


A  HAPHAZARD  VICEROY.  185 

"  Plmnuddm  Castle,  North  Wales. 

"  Dear  Walpole,  —  I  can  make  nothing  out  of  the  papers  you 
have  sent  me;  nor  am  I  able  to  discriminate  between  what  you 
admit  to  be  newspaper  slander  and  the  attack  on  the  castle  with  the 
unspeakable  name.  At  all  events  your  account  is  far  too  graphic 
for  the  Treasury  lords,  who  have  less  of  the  pictorial  about  them 
than  Mr.  Mudie's  subscribers.  If  the  Irish  peasants  are  so  impatient 
to  assume  their  rights  that  they  will  not  wait  for  the  'Hatt- 
Houmaiouu,'  or  Bill  in  Parliament  that  is  to  endow  them,  I  suspect 
a  little  further  show  of  energy  might  save  us  a  debate  and  a  third 
reading.  I  am,  however,  far  more  eager  for  news  from  Therapia. 
Tolstai  has  been  twice  over  with  despatches ;  and  Boustikoff,  pre- 
tending to  have  sprained  his  ankle,  cannot  leave  Odessa,  though  I 
have  ascertained  that  he  has  laid  down  new  lines  of  fortification,  and 
walked  over  twelve  miles  per  day.  You  may  have  heard  of  the 
great  '  Speridionides,'  a  scoundrel  that  supplied  me  with  intelligence. 
I  should  like  much  to  get  him  over  here  while  I  am  on  my  leave, 
confer  with  him,  and,  if  possible,  save  him  from  the  necessity  of  other 
engagements.  It  is  not  every  one  could  be  trusted  to  deal  with  a 
man  of  this  stamp,  nor  would  the  fellow  himself  easily  hold  relations 
with  any  but  a  gentleman.  Are  you  sufficiently  recovered  from  your 
sprained  arm  to  undertake  this  journey  for  me  ?  If  so,  come  over  at 
once,  that  I  may  give  you  all  necessary  indications  as  to  the  man 
and  his  whereabouts. 

"  Maude  has  been  '  on  the  sick  list,'  but  is  better,  and  able  to  ride 
out  to-day.  I  cannot  fill  the  law  appointments  till  I  go  over,  nor 
shall  I  go  over  till  I  cannot  help  it.  The  Cabinet  is  scattered  over 
the  Scotch  lakes;  C.  alone  in  town,  and  preparing  for  the  War 
Ministry  by  practising  the  goose-step.  Telegraph,  if  possible,  that 
you  are  coming,  and  believe  me  yours, 

"  Oanesbury." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

TWO    FRIENDS    AT   BREAKFAST. 
\ 

Irishmen  may  reasonably  enough  travel  for  climate,  they 
need  scarcely  go  abroad  in  search  of  scenery.  Within  even 
a  very  short  distance  from  the  capital,  there  are  landscapes 
which,  for  form,  outline,  and  color,  equal  some  of  the  most 
celebrated  spots  of  Continental  beauty. 

One  of  these  is  the  view  from  Bray  Head  over  the  wide 
expanse  of  the  Bay  of  Dublin,  with  Howth  and  Lambay  in 
the  far  distance.  .  Nearer  at  hand  lies  the  sweep  of  that 
graceful  shore  to  Killiney,  with  the  Dalky  Islands  dotting 
the  calm  sea ;  while  inland,  in  wild  confusion,  are  grouped 
the  Wicklow  mountains,  massive  with  wood  and  teeming 
with  a  rich  luxuriance. 

When  sunlight  and  stillness  spread  color  over  the  blue 
mirror  of  the  sea,  —  as  is  essential  to  the  scene,  —  I  know 
of  nothing,  not  even  Naples  or  Amalfi,  can  surpass  this 
marvellous  picture. 

It  was  on  a  terrace  that  commanded  this  view  that  Wal- 
pole  and  Atlee  sat  at  breakfast  on  a  calm  autumnal  morn- 
ing, the  white-sailed  boats  scarcely  creeping  over  their 
shadows,  and  the  whole  scene,  in  its  silence  and  softened 
effect,  presenting  a  picture  of  almost  rapturous  tranquillity. 

"With  half  a  dozen  days  like  this,"  said  Atlee,  as  he 
smoked  his  cigarette,  in  a  sort  of  languid  grace,  "one  would 
not  say  O' Council  was  wrong  in  his  glowing  admiration  for 
Irish  scenery.  If  I  were  to  awake  every  day  for  a  week  to 
this,  I  suspect  I  should  grow  somewhat  crazy  myself  about 
the  green  island." 

"And  dash  the  description  with  a  little  treason  too,"  said 
the  other,  superciliously.     ''I  have   always   remarked   the 


TWO  FRIENDS  AT  BREAKFAST.  187 

ingenious  connection  with  which  Irishmen  bind  up  a  love  of 
the  picturesque  with  a  hate  of  the  Saxon." 

"  Why  not  ?  they  are  bound  together  in  the  same  romance. 
Can  you  look  on  the  Parthenon,  and  not  think  of  the 
Turk?" 

'^A2?ropos  of  the  Turk,"  said  the  other,  laying  his  hand 
on  a  folded  letter  which  lay  before  him,  "here's  a  long 
letter  from  Lord  Danesbury  about  that  wearisome  '  Eastern 
question, '  as  they  call  the  ten  thousand  issues  that  await  the 
solution  of  the  Bosphorus.  Do  you  take  interest  in  these 
things?" 

''Immensely.  After  I  have  blown  myself  with  a  sharp 
burst  on  Home  politics  I  always  take  a  canter  among  the 
Druses  and  the  Lebanites ;  and  I  am  such  an  authority  on 
the  '  Grand  Idea,'  that  Rangabe  refers  to  me  as  *  the  illus- 
trious statesman  whose  writings  relieve  England  from  the 
stain  of  universal  ignorance  about  Greece.'" 

"And  do  you  know  anything  on  the  subject?  " 

"About  as  much  as  the  present  Cabinet  does  of  Ireland. 
I  know  all  the  clap-traps;  the  grand  traditions  that  have 
sunk  down  into  a  present  barbarism,  —  of  course,  through 
ill  government;  the  noble  instincts  depraved  by  gross  usage; 
I  know  the  inherent  love  of  freedom  we  cherish,  which 
makes  men  resent  rents  as  well  as  laws,  and  teaches  that 
taxes  are  as  great  a  tyranny  as  the  rights  of  property." 

"And  do  the  Greeks  take  this  view  of  it?  " 

"  Of  course  they  do ;  and  it  was  in  experimenting  on  them 
that  your  great  ministers  learned  how  to  deal  with  Ire- 
land. There  was  but  one  step  from  Thebes  to  Tipperary. 
Corfu  was  '  pacified  '  —  that 's  the  phrase  for  it  —  by  abol- 
ishing the  landlords.  The  peasants  were  told  they  might 
spare  a  little  if  they  liked  to  the  ancient  possessor  of  the 
soil ;  and  so  they  took  the  ground,  and  they  gave  him  the 
olive-trees.  You  may  imagine  how  fertile  these  were,  when 
the  soil  around  them  was  utilized  to  the  last  fraction  of 
productiveness. " 

"Is  that  a  fair  statement  of  the  case?" 

"Can  you  ask  the  question?  I'll  show  it  to  you  in 
print." 

"Perhaps  written  by  yourself." 


188  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

*'And  why  not?  What  convictions  have  not  broken  on 
my  mind  by  reading  my  own  writings  ?  You  smile  at  this ; 
but  how  do  you  know  your  face  is  clean  till  you  look  in  a 
glass  ?  " 

Walpole,  however,  had  ceased  to  attend  to  the  speaker, 
and  was  deeply  engaged  with  the  letter  before  him. 

"I  see  here,"  cried  he,  "his  Excellency  is  good  enough  to 
say  that  some  mark  of  royal  favor  might  be  advantageously 
extended  to  those  Kilgobbin  people,  in  recognition  of  their 
heroic  defence.     What  should  it  be,  is  the  question." 

"Confer  on  him  the  peerage,  perhaps." 

"That  is  totally  out  of  the  question." 

"It  was  Kate  Kearney  made  the  defence;  why  not  give 
her  a  commission  in  the  army?  Make  it  another  '  woman's 
right.'" 

"You  are  absurd,  Mr.  Atlee.'* 

*'  Suppose  you  endowed  her  out  of  the  Consolidated  Fund? 
Give  her  twenty  thousand  pounds,  and  I  can  almost  assure 
you  that  a  very  clever  fellow  I  know  will  marry  her." 

"A  strange  reward  for  good  conduct." 

"A  prize  of  virtue.  They  have  that  sort  of  thing  in 
France,  and  they  say  it  gives  a  great  support  to  puiity  of 
morals." 

"Young  Kearney  might  accept  something  if  we  knew  what 
to  offer  him." 

"I  'd  say  a  pair  of  black  trousers;  for  I  think  I  'm  now 
wearing  his  last  in  that  line." 

"Mr.  Atlee,"  said  the  other,  grimly,  "let  me  remind  you 
once  again  that  the  habit  of  light  jesting  — persiflage  —  is 
so  essentially  Irish  you  should  keep  it  for  your  country- 
men ;  and  if  you  persist  in  supposing  the  career  of  a  private 
secretary  suits  you,  this  is  an  incongruity  that  will  totally 
unfit  you  for  the  walk. " 

"I  am  sure  you  know  your  countrymen,  sir,  and  I  am 
grateful  for  the  rebuke." 

Walpole' s  cheek  flushed  at  this,  and  it  was  plain  that 
there  was  a  hidden  meaning  in  the  words  which  he  felt  and 
resented. 

"I  do  not  know,"  continued  Walpole,  "if  I  am  not 
asking  you  to  curb  one  of  the  strongest   impulses  of  your 


TWO  FRIENDS  AT  BREAKFAST.  189 

disposition ;  but  it  rests  entirely  with  yourself  whether  my 
counsel  be  worth  following." 

"Of  course  it  is,  sir.  I  shall  follow  your  advice  to  the 
letter,  and  keep  all  my  good  spirits  and  my  bad  manners 
for  my  countrymen." 

It  was  evident  that  Walpole  had  to  exercise  some  strong 
self-control  not  to  reply  sharply;  but  he  refrained,  and 
turned  once  more  to  Lord  Danesbury's  letter,  in  which  he 
was  soon  deeply  occupied.  At  last  he  said  :  "  His  Excellency 
wants  to  send  me  out  to  Turkey,  to  confer  with  a  man  with 
whom  he  has  some  confidential  relations.  It  is  quite  impos- 
sible that,  in  my  present  state  of  health,  I  could  do  this. 
Would  the  thing  suit  you,  Atlee  —  that  is,  if,  on  considera- 
tion, I  should  opine  that  you  would  suit  it  ?  " 

"  I  suspect,"  replied  Atlee,  but  with  every  deference  in 
his  manner,  "  if  you  would  entertain  the  last  part  of  the 
contingency  first,  it  would  be  more  convenient  to  each  of  us. 
I  mean  whether  I  were  fit  for  the  situation." 

''Well,  perhaps  so,"  said  the  other,  carelessly;  "it  is 
not  at  all  impossible,  it  may  be  one  of  the  things  you  would 
acquit  yourself  well  in.  It  is  a  sort  of  exercise  for  tact 
and  discretion,  —  an  occasion  in  which  that  light  hand  of 
yours  would  have  a  field  for  employment,  and  that  acute 
skill  in  which  I  know  you  pride  yourself  as  regards  reading 
character  —  " 

"  You  have  certainly  piqued  my  curiosity,"  said  Atlee. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  have  said  so  much:  for, 
after  all,  it  remains  to  be  seen  whether  Lord  Danesbury 
would  estimate  these  gifts  of  yours  as  highly  as  I  do.  What 
I  think  of  doing  is  this :  I  shall  send  you  over  to  his  Ex- 
cellency in  your  capacity  as  my  own  private  secretary,  to 
explain  how  unfit  I  am  in  my  present  disabled  condition  to 
undertake  a  journey.  I  shall  tell  my  Lord  how  useful  I 
have  found  your  services  with  regard  to  Ireland,  how  much 
you  know  of  the  country  and  the  people,  and  how  worthy  of 
trust  I  have  found  your  information  and  your  opinions ;  and 
I  shall  hint  —  but  only  hint,  remember  —  that,  for  the  mis- 
sion he  speaks  of,  he  might  possibly  do  worse  than  fix  upon 
yourself.  As  of  course,  it  rests  with  him  to  be  like-minded 
with  me  or  not  upon  this  matter  —  to  take,  in  fact,  his  own 


190  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

estimate  of  Mr.  Atlee  from  his  own  experiences  of  him,  you 
are  not  to  know  anything  whatever  of  this  project  till  his 
Excellency  thinks  proper  to  open  it  to  you.  You  under- 
stand that?" 

''  Thoroughly." 

' '  Your  mission  will  be  to  explain  —  when  asked  to  ex- 
plain—  certain  difficulties  of  Irish  life  and  habits  ;  and  if  his 
Lordship  should  direct  conversation  to  topics  of  the  East,  to 
be  careful  to  know  nothing  of  the  subject  whatever,  —  mind 
that." 

"  I  shall  be  careful.  I  have  read  the  'Arabian  Nights,' 
but  that 'sail." 

"  And  of  that  tendency  to  small  joking  and  weak  epigram 
I  would  also  caution  you  to  beware ;  they  will  have  no  suc- 
cess in  the  quarter  to  which  you  are  going,  and  they  will 
only  damage  other  qualities  which  you  might  possibly  rely 
on." 

Atlee  bowed  a  submissive  acquiescence. 

"  I  don't  know  that  you  '11  see  Lady  Maude  Bickerstaffe, 
his  Lordship's  niece."  He  stopped  as  if  he  had  unwittingly 
uttered  an  awkwardness,  and  then  added:  "I  mean  she 
has  not  been  well,  and  may  not  appear  while  you  are  at  the 
Castle  ;  but  if  you  should,  and  if  —  which  is  not  at  all  likely, 
but  still  possible  —  you  should  be  led  to  talk  of  Kilgobbin 
and  the  incident  that  has  got  into  the  papers,  you  must  be 
very  guarded  in  all  you  say.  It  is  a  county  family  of  station 
and  repute.  We  were  there  as  visitors.  The  ladies  —  I 
don't  know  that  I  'd  say  very  much  of  the  ladies." 

"  Except  that  they  were  exceedingly  plain  in  looks,  and 
somewhat  ^assees  besides,"  added  Atlee,  gravely. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  should  say  that,  sir,"  replied  the 
other,  stiffly.  "  If  you  are  not  bent  on  compromising  me  by 
an  indiscretion,  I  don't  perceive  the  necessity  of  involving 
me  in  a  falsehood." 

"  Y^ou  shall  be  perfectly  safe  in  my  hands,"  said  Atlee.. 

''  And  that  I  may  be  so,  say  as  little  about  me  as  you  can. 
I  know  the  injunction  has  its  difficulties,  Mr.  Atlee,  but  pray 
try  and  observe  it." 

The  conversation  had  now  arrived  at  a  point  in  which  one 
angry  word  more  must  have   produced  a  rupture   between 


TWO  FRIENDS  AT  BREAKFAST.  191 

them ;  and  though  Atlee  took  in  the  whole  situation  and  its 
consequences  at  a  glance,  there  was  nothing  in  the  easy 
jauntiness  of  his  manner  that  gave  any  clew  to  a  sense  of 
anxiety  or  discomfort. 

''Is  it  likely,"  asked  he,  at  length,  "that  his  Excellency 
will  advert  to  the  idea  of  recognizing  or  rewarding  these 
people  for  their  brave  defence  ?  " 

''I  am  coming  to  that,  if  you  will  spare  me  a  little  pa- 
tience ;  Saxon  slowness  is  a  blemish  you  '11  have  to  grow 
accustomed  to.  If  Lord  Danesbury  should  know  that  you 
are  an  acquaintance  of  the  Kilgobbin  family,  and  ask  you 
what  would  be  a  suitable  mode  of  showing  how  their  conduct 
has  been  appreciated  in  a  high  quarter,  you  should  be  pre- 
pared with  an  answer." 

Atlee's  eyes  twinkled  with  a  malicious  drollery,  and  he 
had  to  bite  his  lips  to  repress  an  impertinence  that  seemed 
almost  to  master  his  prudence,  and  at  last  he  said  care- 
lessly, — 

"  Dick  Kearney  might  get  something." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  that  his  qualifications  will  be 
tested.     You  bear  that  in  mind,  I  hope  —  " 

"Yes.  I  was  just  turning  it  over  in  my  head,  and  1 
thought  the  best  thing  to  do  would  be  to  make  him  a  Civil 
Service  Commissioner.  They  are  the  only  people  taken  on 
trust." 

"You  are  severe,  Mr.  Atlee.  Have  these  gentlemen 
earned  this  dislike  on  your  part  ?  " 

"Do  you  mean  by  having  rejected  me?  No,  that  they 
have  not.  I  believe  I  could  have  survived  that;  and  if, 
however,  they  had  come  to  the  point  of  telling  me  that  they 
were  content  with  my  acquirements,  and  what  is  called 
'  passed  me,'  I  fervently  believe  I  should  have  been  seized 
with  an  apoplexy." 

"  Mr.  Atlee's  opinion  of  himself  is  not  a  mean  one,"  said 
Walpole,  with  a  cold  smile. 

"  On  the  contrary,  sir,  I  have  occasion  to  feel  pretty  often 
in  every  twenty-four  hours  what  an  ignominious  part  a  man 
plays  in  life  who  has  to  affect  to  be  taught  what  he  knows 
already,  —  to  be  asking  the  road  where  he  has  travelled  every 
step  of  the  way,  —  and  to  feel  that  a  threadbare  coat  and 


192  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

broken  boots  take  more  from  the  value  of  his  opinions  than 
if  he  were  a  knave  or  a  blackleg." 

"  I  don't  see  the  humility  of  all  this." 

'*I  feel  the  shame  of  it,  though,"  said  Atlee ;  and  as  he 
arose  and  walked  out  upon  the  terrace,  the  veins  in  his 
forehead  were  swelled  and  knotted,  and  his  lips  trembled 
with  suppressed  passion. 

In  a  tone  that  showed  how  thoroughly  indifferent  he  felt 
to  the  other's  irritation,  Walpole  went  on  to  say :  "  You  will 
then  make  it  your  business,  Mr.  Atlee,  to  ascertain  in  what 
way  most  acceptable  to  those  people  at  Kilgobbin,  his 
Excellency  may  be  able  to  show  them  some  mark  of  royal 
favor,  —  bearing  in  mind  not  to  commit  yourself  to  anything 
that  may  raise  great  expectations.  In  fact,  a  recognition  is 
what  is  intended,  not  a  reward." 

Atlee's  eyes  fell  upon  the  opal  ring,  wiiich  he  always  wore 
since  the  day  Walpole  had  given  it  to  him,  and  there  was 
something  so  significant  in  the  glance  that  the  other  flushed 
as  he  caught  it. 

"  I  believe  I  appreciate  the  distinction,"  said  Atlee, 
quietly.  "It  is  to  be  something  in  which  the  generosity  of 
the  donor  is  more  commemorated  than  the  merits  of  the 
person  rewarded,  and,  consequently,  a  most  appropriate 
recognition  of  the  Celt  by  the  Saxon.  Do  you  think  I  ought 
to  go  down  to  Kilgobbin  Castle,  sir?  " 

"I  am  not  quite  sure  about  that;  I'll  turn  it  over  in  my 
mind.  Meanwhile  I  '11  telegraph  to  my  Lord  that,  if  he 
approves,  I  shall  send  you  over  to  Wales ;  and  you  had 
better  make  what  arrangements  you  have  to  make,  to  be 
ready  to  start  at  a  moment." 

"Unfortunately,  sir,  I  have  none.  I  am  in  the  full 
enjoyment  of  such  complete  destitution  that  I  am  always 
ready  to  go  anywhere." 

Walpole  did  not  notice  the  words,  but  arose  and  walked 
over  to  a  writing-table,  to  compose  his  message  for  the 
telegraph. 

"  There,"  said  he,  as  he  folded  it,  "  have  the  kindness  to 
despatch  this  at  once,  and  do  not  be  out  of  the  way  about 
five,  or  half-past,  when  I  shall  expect  an  answer." 

"  Am  I  free  to  go  into  town  meanwhile?  "  asked  Atlee. 


TWO  FRIENDS  AT  BREAKFAST.  193 

Walpole  nodded  assent  without  speaking. 

''  I  wonder  if  this  sort  of  flunkeydom  be  good  for  a  man," 
muttered  Atlee  to  himself,  as  he  sprang  down  the  stairs.  '*  I 
begin  to  doubt  it.  At  all  events,  I  understand  now  the 
secret  of  the  first  lieutenant's  being  a  tyrant :  he  has  once 
been  a  middy.  And  so  I  say,  let  me  only  reach  the  ward- 
room, and  heaven  help  the  cockpit !  " 


13 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

atlee's  embarrassments. 

When  Atlee  returned  to  dress  for  dinner,  he  was  sent  for 
hurriedly  by  Walpole,  who  told  him  that  Lord  Danesbury's 
answer  had  arrived  with  the.  order,  '*  Send  him  over  at  once, 
and  write  fully  at  the  same  time." 

"  There  is  an  eleven  o'clock  packet,  Atlee,  to-night,"  said 
he:  "you  must  manage  to  start  by  that.  You'll  reach 
Holyhead  by  four  or  thereabouts,  and  can  easily  get  to  the 
castle  by  midday." 

"  I  wish  I  had  had  a  little  more  time,"  muttered  the  other. 
"If  I  am  to  present  myself  before  his  Excellency  in  such 
a  '  rig  '  as  this  —  " 

"  I  have  thought  of  that.  We  are  nearly  of  the  same 
size  and  build ;  you  are,  perhaps,  a  trifle  taller,  but  noth- 
ing to  signify.  Now,  Buckmaster  has  just  sent  me  a  mass 
of  things  of  all  sorts  from  town ;  they  are  in  my  dressing- 
room,  not  yet  unpacked.  Go  up  and  look  at  them  after 
dinner  :  take  what  suits  you  —  as  much  —  all,  if  you  like 
—  but  don't  delay  now.  It  only  wants  a  few  minutes  of 
seven  o'clock." 

Atlee  muttered  his  thanks  hastily,  and  went  his  way.  If 
there  was  a  thoughtfulness  in  the  generosity  of  this  action, 
the  mode  in  which  it  was  performed,  the  measured  cold- 
ness of  the  words,  the  look  of  impassive  examination  that 
accompanied  them,  and  the  abstention  from  anything  that 
savored  of  apology  for  a  liberty,  were  all  deeply  felt  by 
the  other. 

It  was  true,  Walpole  had  often  heard  him  tell  of  the 
freedom  with  which  he  had  treated  Dick  Kearney's  ward- 
robe, and  how  poor  Dick  was  scarcely  sure  he  could  call 
an  article  of  dress  his  own,  whenever  Joe  had  been  the 
first  to  go  out  into  the  town.     The  innumerable  straits  to 


ATLEE'S  EMBARRASSMENTS.  195 

which  he  reduced  that  unlucky  chum,  who  had  actually  to 
deposit  a  dinner-suit  at  a  hotel  to  save  it  from  Atlee's 
rapacity,  had  amused  Walpole ;  but  then  these  things  were 
all  done  in  the  spirit  of  the  honest  familiarity  that  pre- 
vailed between  them,  —  the  tie  of  true  camaraderie  that 
neither  suggested  a  thought  of  obligation  on  one  side,  nor 
of  painful  inferiority  on  the  other.  Here  it  was  totally 
different.  These  men  did  not  live  together  with  that  daily 
interchange  of  liberties  which,  with  all  their  passing  con- 
tentions, so  accustom  people  to  each  other's  humors  as  to 
establish  the  soundest  and  strongest  of  all  friendships. 
Walpole  had  adopted  Atlee  because  he  found  him  useful 
in  a  variety  of  ways.  He  was  adroit,  ready-witted,  and 
intelligent ;  a  half-explanation  sufficed  with  him  on  anything, 
—  a  mere  hint  was  enough  to  give  him  for  an  interview  or 
a  reply.  He  read  people  readily,  and  rarely  failed  to  profit 
by  the  knowledge.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  great 
blemish  of  his  manner,  —  his  snobbery,  —  Walpole  rather 
liked  than  disliked  it.  It  was  a  sort  of  qualifying  element 
that  satisfied  him,  as  though  it  said,  "  With  all  that  fellow's 
cleverness,  he  is  not  '  one  of  us.'  He  might  make  a  wittier 
reply,  or  write  a  smarter  note ;  but  society  has  its  little 
tests,  —  not  one  of  which  he  could  respond  to."  And  this 
was  an  inferiority  Walpole  loved  to  cherish  and  was  pleased 
to  think  over. 

Atlee  felt  that  Walpole  might,  with  very  little  exercise 
of  courtesy,  have  dealt  more  considerately  by  him. 

"  I  'm  not  exactly  a  valet,"  muttered  he  to  himself,  "to 
whom  a  man  flings  a  waistcoat  as  he  chucks  a  shilling  to 
a  porter.  I  am  more  than  Mr.  Walpole's  equal  in  many 
things,  which  are  not  accidents  of  fortune." 

He  knew  scores  of  things  he  could  do  better  than  him ; 
indeed,  there  were  very  few  he  could  not. 

Poor  Joe  was  not,  however,  aware  that  it  was  in  the 
"not  doing  "  lay  Walpole's  secret  of  superiority;  that  the 
inborn  sense  of  abstention  is  the  great  distinguishing  ele- 
ment of  the  class  Walpole  belonged  to;  and  he  might 
harass  himself  forever,  and  yet  never  guess  where  it  was 
that  the  distinction  evaded  him. 

Atlee's  manner  at  dinner  was  unusually  cold  and  silent. 


196  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

He  habitually  made  the  chief  efforts  of  conversation ;  now  he 
spoke  little  and  seldom.  When  Walpole  talked,  it  was  in 
that  careless  discursive  way  it  was  his  wont  to  discuss 
matters  with  a  familiar.  He  often  put  questions,  and  as 
often  went  on  without  waiting   for  the  answers. 

As  they  sat  over  the  dessert  and  were  alone,  he  adverted 
to  the  other's  mission,  throwing  out  little  hints,  and  cau- 
tions as  to  manner,  w^hich  Atlee  listened  to  in  perfect 
silence,  and  without  the  slightest  sign  that  could  indicate 
the  feeling  they  produced. 

''  You  are  going  into  a  new  country,  Atlee,"  said  he,  at 
last,  "  and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  be  sorry  to  learn  some- 
thing of  the  geography." 

"  Though  it  may  mar  a  little  of  the  adventure,"  said  the 
other,  smiling. 

"  Ah,  that 's  exactly  what  I  want  to  warn  you  against. 
With  us  in  England,  there  are  none  of  those  social  vicissi- 
tudes you  are  used  to  here.  The  game  of  life  is  played 
gravely,  quietly,  and  calmly.  There  are  no  brilliant  suc- 
cesses of  bold  talkers,  no  coups-de-thedtre  of  amusing  racon- 
teurs:  no  one  tries  to  push  himself  into  any  position  of 
eminence." 

A  ■  half  movement  of  impatience,  as  Atlee  pushed  his 
wine-glass  before  him,  arrested  the  speaker. 

"I  perceive,"  said  he,  stiffly,  ''you  regard  my  counsels 
as  unnecessary." 

"Not  that,  sir,  so  much  as  hopeless,"  rejoined  the  other, 
coldly. 

"His  Excellency  will  ask  you,  probably,  some  questions 
about  this  country :  let  me  warn  you  not  to  give  him  Irish 
answers." 

"  I  don't  think  I  understand  you,  sir." 

"  I  mean,  don't  deal  in  any  exaggerations,  avoid  extrava- 
gance, and  never  be  slap-dash." 

"  Oh,  these  are  Irish,  then?  " 

Without  deigning  reply  to  this,  Walpole  went  on. 

"Of  course  you  have  your  remedy  for  all  the  evils  of 
Ireland.  I  never  met  an  Irishman  who  had  not.  But  I 
beg  you  spare  his  Lordship  your  theory,  whatever  it  is,  and 
simply  answer  the  questions  he  will  ask  you." 


ATLEE'S   EMBARRASSMENTS.  197 

*'  I  will  try,  sir,"  was  the  meek  reply. 

''Above  all  things,  let  me  warn  you  against  a  favorite   > 
blunder  of  your  countrymen.     Don't  endeavor   to   explain    'j 
peculiarities   of   action  in  this  country    by   singularities  of/ 
race  or  origin ;  don't  try  to  make  out  that  there  are  special 
points  of  view  held  that  are  unknown  on  the  other  side  of 
the  channel,    or   that   there   are   other  differences   between 
the  two  peoples,    except   such   as   more   rags    and   greater 
wretchedness  produce.     We  have   got  over  that  very  ven- 
erable and  time-honored  blunder,  and  do  not  endeavor   to 
revive  it." 

''Indeed!" 

"  Fact,  I  assure  you.  It  is  possible  in  some  remote 
country-house  to  chance  upon  some  antiquated  Tory  who 
still  cherishes  these  notions ;  but  you  '11  not  find  them 
amongst  men  of  mind  or  intelligence,  nor  amongst  any 
class  of  our  people." 

It  was  on  Atlee's  lip  to  ask,  "  Who  were  our  people?  "  but 
he  forebore  by  a  mighty  effort,  and  was  silent. 

"  I  don't  know  if  I  have  any  other  cautions  to  give  you. 
Do  you?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  could  not  even  have  reminded  you  of  these, 
if  you  had  not  yourself  remembered  them." 

"  Oh,  I  had  almost  forgotten  it.  If  his  Excellency  should 
give  you  anything  to  write  out  or  to  copy,  don't  smoke  while 
you  are  over  it ;  he  abhors  tobacco.  I  should  have  given  you 
a  warning  to  be  equally  careful  as  regards  Lady  Maude's 
sensibilities ;  but,  on  the  whole,  I  suspect  you  '11  scarcely 
see  her." 

"Is  that  all,  sir?"  said  the  other,  rising. 

"Well,  I  think  so.  I  shall  be  curious  to  hear  how  you 
acquit  yourself,  —  how  you  get  on  with  his  Excellency,  and 
how  he  takes  you ;  and  you  must  write  it  all  to  me.  Ain't 
you  much  too  early?  it's  scarcely  ten  o'clock." 

"  A  quarter  past  ten !  and  I  have  some  miles  to  drive  to 
Kingstown." 

"  And  not  yet  packed,  perhaps?  "  said  the  other,  listlessly. 

"No,  sir;   nothing  ready." 

"  Oh !  you'll  be  in  ample  time  ;  I  '11  vouch  for  it.  You  are 
one  of  the  rough-and-ready  order  who  are  never  late.     Not 


198  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

but  in  this  same  flurry  of  yours  you  have  made  me  forget 
something  I  know  I  had  to  say ;  and  you  tell  me  you  can't 
remember  it?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  And  yet,"  said  the  other,  sententiously,  "  the  crowning 
merit  of  a  private  secretary  is  exactly  that  sort  of  memory. 
Your  intellects,  if  properly  trained,  should  be  the  comple- 
ment of  your  chief's.  The  infinite  number  of  things  that 
are  too  small  and  too  insignificant  for  him  are  to  have 
their  place,  duly  docketed  and  dated.  In  your  brain;  and 
the  very  expression  of  his  face  should  be  an  indication 
to  you  of  what  he  is  looking  for  and  yet  cannot  remember. 
Do  you  mark  me?  " 

"Half-past  ten,"  cried  Atlee,  as  the  clock  chimed  on  the 
mantelpiece ;  and  he  hurried  away  without  another  word. 

It  was  only  as  he  saw  the  pitiable  penury  of  his  own  scanty 
wardrobe  that  he  could  persuade  himself  to  accept  of  Wal- 
pole's  offer. 

"  After  all,"  he  said,  "  the  loan  of  a  dress-coat  may  be  the 
turning-point  of  a  whole  destiny.  Junot  sold  all  he  had  to 
buy  a  sword,  to  make  his  first  campaign ;  all  I  have  is  my 
shame,  and  here  it  goes  for  a  suit  of  clothes !  "  And,  with 
these  words,  he  rushed  down  to  Walpole's  dressing-room, 
and,  not  taking  time  to  inspect  and  select  the  contents, 
carried  off  the  box,  as  it  was,  with  him.  "I'll  tell  him 
all  when  I  write,"  muttered  he,  as  he  drove  away. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

DICK  Kearney's  chambers. 

When  Dick  Kearney  quitted  Kilgobbin  Castle  for  Dublin,  he 
was  very  far  from  having  any  projects  in  his  head,  excepting 
to  show  his  cousin  Nina  that  he  could  live  without  her. 

'^  I  believe,"  muttered  he  to  himself,  ''  she  counts  upon  me 
as  another  '  victim.'  These  coquettish  damsels  have  a  theory 
that  the  '  whole  drama  of  life '  is  the  game  of  their  fascina- 
tions and  the  consequences  that  come  of  them,  and  that  we 
men  make  it  our  highest  ambition  to  win  them,  and  subor- 
dinate all  we  do  in  life  to  their  favor.  I  should  like  to  show 
her  that  one  man  at  least  refuses  to  yield  this  allegiance,  and 
that  whatever  her  blandishments  do  with  others,  with  him 
they  are  powerless." 

These  thoughts  were  his  travelling-companions  for  nigh 
fifty  miles  of  travel,  and,  like  most  travelling-companions, 
grew  to  be  tiresome  enough  towards  the  end  of  the  journey. 

When  he  arrived  in  Dublin,  he  was  in  no  hurry  to  repair  to 
his  quarters  in  Trinity ;  they  were  not  particularly  cheery  in 
the  best  of  times,  and  now  it  was  long  vacation,  with  few 
men  in  town  and  everything  sad  and  spiritless  ;  besides  this, 
he  was  in  no  mood  to  meet  Atlee,  whose  free-and-easy  jocu- 
larity he  knew  he  would  not  endure,  even  with  his  ordinary 
patience.  Joe  had  never  condescended  to  write  one  line 
since  he  had  left  Kilgobbin,  and  Dick,  who  felt  that  in  pre- 
senting him  to  his  family  he  had  done  him  immense  honor, 
was  proportionately  indignant  at  this  show  of  indifference. 
But,  by  the  same  easy  formula  with  which  he  could  account 
for  anything  in  Nina's  conduct,  by  her  "  coquetry,"  he  was 
able  to  explain  every  deviation  from  decorum  of  Joe  Atlee's, 
by  his  "  snobbery."     And  it  is  astonishing  how  comfortable 


200  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

the  thought  made  him,  that  this  man,  in  all  his  smartness 
and  ready  wit,  in  his  prompt  power  to  acquire,  and  his  still 
greater  quickness  to  apply  knowledge,  was  after  all  a  most 
consummate  snob. 

He  had  no  taste  for  a  dinner  at  commons,  so  he  ate  his 
mutton-chop  at  a  tavern,  and  went  to  the  play.  Ineffably 
bored,  he  sauntered  along  the  almost  deserted  streets  of  the 
city,  and  just  as  midnight  was  striking,  he  turned  under  the 
arched  portal  of  the  College.  Secretly  hoping  that  Atlee 
might  be  absent,  he  inserted  the  key  and  entered  his 
quarters. 

The  grim  old  coal-bunker  in  the  passage,  the  silent  corri- 
dor, and  the  dreary  room  at  the  end  of  it,  never  looked  more 
dismal  than  as  he  surveyed  them  now  by  the  light  of  a  little 
wax  match  he  had  lighted  to  guide  his  way.  There  stood 
the  massive  old  table  in  the  middle,  with  its  litter  of  books 
and  papers,  —  memories  of  many  a  headache  ;  and  there  was 
the  paper  of  coarse  Cavendish,  against  which  he  had  so  often 
protested,  as  well  as  a  pewter-pot,  —  a  new  infraction  against 
propriety  since  he  had  been  away.  Worse,  however,  than 
all  assaults  on  decency,  were  a  pair  of  coarse  highlows, 
which  had  been  placed  within  the  fender,  and  had  evidently 
enjoyed  the  fire  so  long  as  it  lingered  in  the  grate. 

''So  like  the  fellow!  so  like  him!"  was  all  that  Dick 
could  mutter,  and  he  turned  away  in  disgust. 

As  Atlee  never  went  to  bed  till  daybreak,  it  was  quite 
clear  that  he  was  from  home  ;  and  as  the  College  gates  could 
not  reopen  till  morning,  Dick  was  not  sorry  to  feel  that  he 
was  safe  from  all  intrusion  for  some  hours.  With  this  con- 
solation, he  betook  him  to  his  bedroom,  and  proceeded  to 
undress.  Scarcely,  however,  had  he  thrown  off  his  coat 
than  a  heavy,  long-drawn  respiration  startled  him.  He 
stopped  and  listened  :  it  came  again,  and  from  the  bed.  He 
drew  nigh,  and  there,  to  his  amazement,  on  his  own  pillow, 
lay  a  massive  head  of  a  coarse-looking,  vulgar  man,  of  about 
thirty,  with  a  silk  handkerchief  fastened  over  it  as  nightcap. 
A  brawny  arm  lay  outside  the  bed-clothes,  with  an  enormous 
hand  of  very  questionable  cleanness,  though  one  of  the 
fingers  wore  a  heavy  gold  ring. 

Wishing  to  gain  what  knowledge  he  might  of  his  guest 


-DICK  KEARNEY'S   CHAMBERS.  201 

before  awaking  him,  Dick  turned  to  inspect  his  clothes, 
which,  in  a  wild  disorder,  lay  scattered  through  the  room. 
They  were  of  the  very  poorest ;  but  such  still  as  might  have 
belonged  to  a  very  humble  clerk,  or  a  messenger  in  a  count- 
ing-house. A  large  black  leather  pocket-book  fell  from  a. 
pocket  of  the  coat,  and,  in  replacing  it,  Dick  perceived  it 
was  filled  with  letters.  On  one  of  these,  as  he  closed  the 
clasp,  he  read  the  name  "  Mr.  Daniel  Donogan,  Dartmouth 
Jail." 

"  What!  "  cried  he,  "  is  this  the  great  head  centre,  Dono- 
gan, I  have  read  so  much  of?  and  how  is  he  here?" 

Though  Dick  Kearney  was  not  usually  quick  of  appre- 
hension, he  was  not  long  here  in  guessing  what  the  situation 
meant;  it  was  clear  enough  that  Donogan,  being  a  friend  of 
Joe  Atlee,  had  been  harbored  here  as  a  safe  refuge.  Of  all 
places  in  the  capital,  none  were  so  secure  from  the  visits  of 
the  police  as  the  College ;  indeed  it  would  have  been  no 
small  hazard  for  the  public  force  to  have  invaded  these  pre- 
cincts. Calculating  therefore  that  Kearney  was  little  likely 
to  leave  Kilgobbin  at  present,  Atlee  had  installed  his  friend 
in  Dick's  quarters.  The  indiscretion  was  a  grave  one ;  in 
fact,  there  was  nothing  —  even  to  expulsion  itself  —  might 
not  have  followed  on  discovery. 

''  So  like  him  !  so  like  him !  "  was  all  he  could  mutter,  as 
he  arose  and  walked  about  the  room. 

While  he  thus  mused,  he  turned  into  Atlee's  bedroom,  and 
at  once  it  appeared  why  Mr.  Donogan  had  been  accommo- 
dated in  his  room.  Atlee's  was  perfectly  destitute  of  ever}'- 
thing :  bed,  chest  of  drawers,  dressing-table,  chair,  and  bath 
were  all  gone.  The  sole  object  in  the  chamber  was  a  coarse 
print  of  a  well-known  informer  of  the  year  '98,  "Jemmy 
O'Brien,"  under  whose  portrait  was  written,  in  Atlee's  hand, 
"Bought  in  at  fourpence-half penny,  at  the  general  sale,  in 
affectionate  remembrance  of  his  virtues,  by  one  who  feels 
himself  to  be  a  relative.  — J.  A."  Kearney  tore  down  the 
picture  in  passion,  and  stamped  upon  it;  indeed,  his  indig- 
nation with  his  chum  had  now  passed  all  bounds  of  restraint. 

"So  like  him  in  everything!"  again  burst  from  him  in 
utter  bitterness. 

Having  thus  satisfied  himself  that  he  had  read  the  incident 


202  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

aright,  he  returned  to  the  sitting-room,  and  at  once  decided 
that  he  would  leave  Donogan  to  his  rest  till  morning. 

"It  will  be  time  enough  then  to  decide  what  is  to  be 
done,"  thought  he. 

He  then  proceeded  to  relight  the  fire,  and,  drawing  a  sofa 
near,  he  wrapped  himself  in  a  railway-rug,  and  lay  down  to 
sleep.  For  a  long  time  he  could  not  compose  himself  to 
slumber.  He  thought  of  Nina ;  and  her  wiles,  —  ay,  they 
were  wiles,  —  he  saw  them  plainly  enough.  It  was  true  he 
was  no  prize  —  no  "catch,"  as  they  call  it  —  to  angle  for; 
and  such  a  girl  as  she  was  could  easily  look  higher;  but 
still  he  might  swell  the  list  of  those  followers  she  seemed  to 
like  to  behold  at  her  feet  offering  up  every  homage  to  her 
beauty,  even  to  their  actual  despair.  And  he  thought  of 
his  own  condition,  —  very  hopeless  and  purposeless  as  it 
was. 

"What  a  journey  to  be  sure  was  life,  without  a  goal  to 
strive  for  !  Kilgobbin  would  be  his  one  day ;  but  by  that 
time  would  it  be  able  to  pay  off  the  mortgages  that  were 
raised  upon  it?  It  was  true  Atlee  was  no  richer  ;  but  Atlee 
was  a  shifty,  artful  fellow,  with  scores  of  contrivances  to  go 
windward  of  fortune  in  even  the  very  worst  of  weather. 
Atlee  would  do  many  a  thing  he  would  not  stoop  to." 

And  as  Kearney  said  this  to  himself,  he  was  cautious  in 
the  use  of  his  verb,  and  never  said  "could,"  but  always 
"would"  do;  and,  oh  dear!  is  it  not  in  this  fashion  that  so 
many  of  us  keep  up  our  courage  in  life,  and  attribute  to  the 
want  of  will  what  we  well  know  lies  in  the  want  of 
power  ? 

Last  of  all  he  bethought  himself  of  this  man  Donogan,  a 
dangerous  fellow  in  a  certain  way,  and  one  whose  com- 
panionship must  be  got  rid  of  at  any  price.  Plotting  over 
in  his  mind  how  this  should  be  done  in  the  morning,  he  at 
last  fell  fast  asleep. 

So  overcome  was  he  by  slumber  that  he  never  awoke 
when  that  venerable  institution  called  the  College  woman  — 
the  hag  whom  the  virtue  of  unerring  dons  insists  on  impos- 
ing as  a  servant  on  resident  students  —  entered,  made  up 
the  fire,  swept  up  the  room,  and  arranged  the  breakfast- 
table.     It  was  only  as  she  jogged  his  arm  to  ask  him  for  an 


DICK  KEARNEY'S   CHAMBERS.  203 

additional  penny  to  buy  more  milk,  that  he  awoke  and 
remembered  where  he  was. 

"  Will  I  get  yer  honer  a  bit  of  bacon?"  asked  she,  in  a 
tone  intended  to  be  insinuating. 

"  Whatever  you  like,"  said  he,  drowsily. 

"It's  himself  there  likes  a  rasher,  — when  he  can  get  it," 
said  she,  with  a  leer,  and  a  motion  of  her  thumb  towards  the 
adjoining  room. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean?"  asked  he,  half  to  learn  what  and 
how  much  she  knew  of  his  neighbor. 

"Oh!  don't  1  know  him  well? — Dan  Donogan,"  replied 
she,  with  a  grin.  "  Did  n't  I  see  him  in  the  dock  with  Smith 
O'Brien  in  '48,  and  was  n't  he  in  trouble  again  after  he  got 
his  pardon ;  and  won't  he  always  be  in  trouble?" 

"  Hush  !  don't  talk  so  loud,"  cried  Dick,  warningly. 

"  He  'd  not  hear  me  now  if  I  was  screechin' ;  it 's  the  only 
time  he  sleeps  hard ;  for  he  gets  up  about  three  or  half-past 
—  before  it 's  day  —  and  he  squeezes  through  the  bars  of  the 
window,  and  gets  out  into  the  Park,  and  he  takes  his  exer- 
cise there  for  two  hours,  most  of  the  time  running  full  speed 
and  keeping  himself  in  fine  wind.  Do  you  know  what  he 
said  to  me  the  other  day?  '  Molly,'  says  he,  '  when  I  know 
I  can  get  between  those  bars  there,  and  run  round  the  Col- 
lege Park  in  three  minutes  and  twelve  seconds,  I  feel  that 
there 's  not  many  a  jail  in  Ireland  can  howld,  and  the  divil  a 
policeman  in  the  island  could  catch,  me.' "  And  she  had  to 
lean  over  the  back  of  a  chair  to  steady  herself  while  she 
laughed  at  the  conceit. 

"I  think,  after  all,"  said  Kearney,  "I'd  rather  keep  out 
of  the  scrape  than  trust  to  that  way  of  escaping  it." 

'^  He  wouldn't,"  said  she.  "He'd  rather  be  seducin' 
soldiers  in  Barrack  Street,  or  swearing  in  a  new  Fenian,  or 
nailing  a  death-warnin'  on  a  hall-door,  than  he  'd  be  lord 
mayor !  If  he  was  n't  in  mischief,  he  'd  like  to  be  in  his 
grave." 

"And  what  comes  of  it  all?"  said  Kearney,  scarcely 
giving  any  exact  meaning  to  his  words. 

"That's  what  I  do  be  saying  myself,"  cried  the  hag. 
"When  they  can  transport  you  for  singing  a  ballad,  and 
send  you  to  pick  oakum  for  a  green  cravat,  it 's  time  to  take 


204  I.ORD   KILGOBBIN. 

to  some  other  trade  than  patriotism !  "  And  with  this  re- 
flection she  shuffled  away,  to  procure  the  materials  for 
breakfast. 

The  fresh  rolls,  the  watercress,  a  couple  of  red  herrings 
devilled  as  those  ancient  damsels  are  expert  in  doing,  and  a 
smoking  dish  of  rashers  and  eggs,  flanked  by  a  hissing  tea- 
kettle, soon  made  their  appearance,  the  hag  assuring  Kear- 
ney that  a  stout  knock  with  the  poker  on  the  back  of  the 
grate  would  summon  Mr.  Donogan  almost  instantaneously^ ; 
so  rapidly,  indeed,  and  with  such  indifference  as  to  raiment, 
that,  as  she  modestly  declared,  "I  have  to  take  to  my  heels 
the  moment  I  call  him ;  "  and  the  modest  avowal  was  con- 
firmed by  her  hasty  departure. 

The  assurance  was  so  far  correct  that  scarcely  had  Kear- 
ney replaced  the  poker  when  the  door  opened,  and  one  of 
the  strangest  figures  he  had  ever  beheld  presented  itself  in 
the  room.  He  was  a  short  thick-set  man  with  a  profusion 
of  yellowish  hair,  which,  divided  in  the  middle  of  the  head, 
hung  down  on  either  side  to  his  neck ;  beard  and  moustache 
of  the  same  hue  left  little  of  the  face  to  be  seen  but  a  pair 
of  lustrous  blue  eyes,  deep-sunken  in  their  orbits,  and  a  short 
wide-nostrilled  nose  which  bore  the  closest  resemblance  to 
a  lion's.  Indeed,  a  most  absurd  likeness  to  the  king  of 
beasts  was  the  impression  produced  on  Kearney  as  this 
wild-looking  fellow  bounded  forward,  and  stood  there 
amazed  at  finding  a  stranger  to  confront  him. 

His  dress  was  a  flannel  shirt  and  trousers,  and  a  pair  of 
old  slippers  which  had  once  been  Kearney's  own. 

"I  was  told  by  the  College  woman  how  I  was  to  summon 
you,  Mr.  Donogan,"  said  Kearney,  good-naturedly.  "You 
are  not  offended  with  the  liberty?" 

"Are  you  Dick?"  asked  the  other,  coming  forward. 

"Yes.  I  think  most  of  my  friends  know  me  by  that 
name." 

"And  the  old  devil  has  told  you  mine?"  asked  he, 
quickly. 

"  No,  I  believe  I  discovered  that  for  myself.  I  tumbled 
over  some  of  your  things  last  night,  and  saw  a  letter 
addressed  to  you." 

"You  didn't  read  it?" 


DICK  KEARNEY'S  CHAMBERS.  205 

"Certainly  not.  It  fell  out  of  your  pocket-book,  and  I 
put  it  back  there." 

"So  the  old  hag  did  n't  blab  on  me?  I  'm  anxious  about 
this,  because  it 's  got  out  somehow  that  I  'm  back  again.  I 
landed  at  Kenmare  in  a  fishing-boat  from  the  New  York 
packet,  the  '  Osprey,'  on  Tuesday  fortnight,  and  three  of  the 
newspapers  had  it  before  I  was  a  week  on  shore." 

"Our  breakfast  is  getting  cold;  sit  down  here  and  let  me 
help  you.     Will  you  begin  with  a  rasher?" 

Not  replying  to  the  invitation,  Donogan  covered  his  plate 
with  bacon,  and  leaning  his  arm  on  the  table,  stared  fixedly 
at  Kearney. 

"I  'm  as  glad  as  fifty  pounds  of  it,"  muttered  he  slowly 
to  himself. 

"Glad  of  what?" 

"Glad  that  you're  not  a  swell,  Mr.  Kearney,"  said  he, 
gravely.  "  '  The  Honorable  Richard  Kearney,'  —  whenever 
I  repeated  that  to  myself  it  gave  me  a  cold  sweat.  I 
thought  of  velvet  collars  and  a  cravat  with  a  grand  pin  in  it, 
and  a  stuck-up  creature  behind  both  that  would  n't  conde- 
scend to  sit  down  with  me." 

"I'm  sure  Joe  Atlee  gave  you  no  such  impression  of 
me." 

A  short  grunt  that  might  mean  anything  was  all  the 
reply. 

"He  was  my  chum,  and  knew  me  better,"  reiterated  the 
other. 

"He  knows  many  a  thing  he  doesn't  say,  and  he  says 
plenty  that  he  does  n't  know.  '  Kearney  will  be  a  swell,' 
said  I,  '  and  he  '11  turn  upon  me  just  out  of  contempt  for  my 
condition.'  " 

"That  was  judging  me  hardly,  Mr.  Donogan." 

"No,  it  wasn't;  it's  the  treatment  the  mangy  dogs  meet 
all  the  world  over.  Why  is  England  insolent  to  us,  but 
because  we 're  poor?  —  answer  me  that.  Are  we  mangy? 
Don't  you  feel  mangy?  —  I  know  i  do!  " 

Dick  smiled  a  sort  of  mild  contradiction,  but  said 
nothing. 

"Now  that  I  see  you,  Mr.  Kearney,"  said  the  other,  "I  'm 
as  glad  as  a  ten-pound  note  about  a  letter  I  wrote  you  —  " 

"I  never  received  a  letter  from  you." 


206  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"Sure  I  know  you  didn't!  haven't  I  got  it  here?  "  And 
he  drew  forth  a  square-shaped  packet  and  held  it  up  before 
him.  "I  never  said  that  I  sent  it,  nor  I  won't  send  it  now. 
Here  's  its  present  address,"  added  he,  as  he  threw  it  on  the 
fire  and  pressed  it  down  with  his  foot. 

''Why  not  have  given  it  to  me  now?  "  asked  the  other. 

"Because  three  minutes  will  tell  you  all  that  was  in  it, 
and  better  than  writing ;  for  I  can  reply  to  anything  that 
wants  an  explanation,  and  that 's  what  a  letter  cannot. 
First  of  all,  do  you  know  that  Mr.  Claude  Barry,  your 
county  member,  has  asked  for  the  Chiltern,  and  is  going 
to  resign  ?  " 

"No,  I  have  not  heard  it." 

"Well,  it 's  a  fact.  They  are  going  to  make  him  a 
second  secretary  somewhere,  and  pension  him  off.  He  has 
done  his  work.  He  voted  an  Arms  Bill  and  an  Insurrection 
Act,  and  he  had  the  influenza  when  the  amnesty  petition 
was  presented;  and  sure  no  more  could  be  expected  from 
any  man." 

"The  question  scarcely  concerns  me;  our  interest  in  the 
county  is  so  small  now,  we  count  for  very  little." 

"And  don't  you  know  how  to  make  your  influence 
greater?" 

"I  cannot  say  that  I  do." 

"Go  to  the  poll  yourself,  Richard  Kearney,  and  be  the 
member." 

"You  are  talking  of  an  impossibility,  Mr.  Donogan. 
First  of  all,  we  have  no  fortune,  no  large  estates  in  the 
county,  with  a  wide  tenantry  and  plenty  of  votes ;  secondly, 
we  have  no  place  amongst  the  county  families,  as  our  old 
name  and  good  blood  might  have  given  us ;  thirdly,  we  are 
of  the  wrong  religion,  and,  I  take  it,  with  as  wrong  politics , 
and,  lastly,  we  should  not  know  what  to  do  with  the  prize 
if  we  had  won  it." 

"Wrong  in  every  one  of  your  propositions;  wholly 
wrong,"  cried  the  other.  "The  party  that  will  send  you  in 
won't  want  to  be  bribed,  and  they'll  be  proud  of  a  man 
who  does  n't  overtop  them  with  his  money.  You  don't  need 
the  big  families,  for  you  '11  beat  them.  Your  religion  is 
the  right  one,  for  it  will  give  you  the  Priests;  and  your 
politics  shall  be  Repeal,  and  it  will  give  you  the  Peasants ; 


DICK  KEARNEY'S   CHAMBERS.  207 

and  as  to  not  knowing  what  to  do  when  you  're  elected,  are 
you  so  mighty  well  off  in  life  that  you  've  nothing  to  wish 
for?" 

"I  can  scarcely  say  that,"  said  Dick,  smiling. 

"Give  me  a  few  minutes'  attention,"  said  Donogan,  ''and 
I  think  I  '11  show  you  that  I  've  thought  this  matter  out  and 
out;  indeed,  before  I  sat  down  to  write  to  you,  I  went  into 
all  the  details." 

And  now,  with  a  clearness  and  a  fairness  that  astonished 
Kearney,  this  strange-looking  fellow  proceeded  to  prove 
how  he  had  weighed  the  whole  difficulty,  and  saw  how  in 
the  nice  balance  of  the  two  great  parties  who  would  contest 
the  seat,  the  Repealer  would  step  in  and  steal  votes  from 
both. 

He  showed  not  only  that  he  knew  every  barony  of  the 
county,  and  every  estate  and  property,  but  that  he  had  a 
clear  insight  into  the  different  localities  where  discontent 
prevailed,  and  places  where  there  was  something  more  than 
discontent. 

"It  is  down  there,"  said  he,  significantly,  "that  1  can  be 
useful.  The  man  that  has  had  his  foot  in  the  dock,  and 
only  escaped  having  his  head  in  the  noose,  is  never  discred- 
ited in  Ireland.  Talk  parliament  and  parliamentary  tac- 
tics to  the  small  shopkeepers  in  Moate,  and  leave  me  to  talk 
treason  to  the  people  in  the  bog." 

"But  I  mistake  you  and  your  friends  greatly,"  said  Kear- 
ney, "if  these  were  the  tactics  you  always  followed;  I 
thought  that  you  were  the  physical  force  party,  who  sneered 
at  constitutionalism,  and  only  believed  in  the  pike." 

"  So  we  did,  so  long  as  we  saw  O'Connell  and  the  lawyers 
working  the  game  of  that  grievance  for  their  own  advantage, 
and  teaching  the  English  Government  how  to  rule  Ireland 
by  a  system  of  concession  to  them  and  to  their  friends. 
Now,  however,  we  begin  to  perceive  that  to  assault  that 
heavy  bastion  of  Saxon  intolerance  we  must  have  spies  in 
the  enemy's  fortress,  and  for  this  we  send  in  so  many  mem- 
bers to  the  Whig  party.  There  are  scores  of  men  who  will 
aid  us  by  their  vote  who  would  not  risk  a  bone  in  our 
cause.  Theirs  is  a  sort  of  subacute  patriotism;  but  it 
has    its   use.     It  smashes  an  Established    Church,   breaks 


208  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

down  Protestant  ascendency,  destroys  the  prestige  of  landed 
property,  and  will  in  time  abrogate  entail  and  primogeni- 
ture, and  many  another  fine  thing;  and  in  this  way  it  clears 
the  ground  for  our  operations,  just  as  soldiers  fell  trees  and 
level  houses,  lest  they  interfere  ivith  the  range  of  heavy 
artillery." 

"  So  that  the  place  you  would  assign  me  is  that  very  hon- 
orable one  you  have  just  called  a  '  spy  in  the  camp  '  ?  " 

"By  a  figure  I  said  that,  Mr.  Kearney;  but  you  know  well 
enough  what  I  meant  was,  that  there  's  many  a  man  will  help 
us  on  the  Treasury  benches,  that  would  not  turn  out  on 
Tallaght;  and  we  want  both.  I  won't  say,"  added  he,  after 
a  pause,  "  I  'd  not  rather  see  you  a  leader  in  our  ranks  than 
a  Parliament  man.  I  was  bred  a  doctor,  Mr.  Kearney,  and 
I  must  take  an  illustration  from  my  own  art.  To  make  a 
man  susceptible  of  certain  remedies,  you  are  often  obliged 
to  reduce  his  strength  and  weaken  his  constitution.  So  it 
is  here.  To  bring  Ireland  into  a  condition  to  be  bettered 
by  Repeal,  you  must  crush  the  Church  and  smash  the  bitter 
Protestants.  The  Whigs  will  do  these  for  us ;  but  we  must 
help  them.     Do  you  understand  me  now?  " 

''I  believe  I  do.  In  the  case  you  speak  of,  then,  the 
Government  will  support  my  election." 

"Against  a  Tory,  yes;  but  not  against  a  pure  Whig, — 
a  thorough-going  supporter  who  would  bargain  for  nothing 
for  his  country,  only  something  for  his  own  relations." 

"  If  your  project  has  an  immense  fascination  for  me  at 
one  moment,  and  excites  my  ambition  beyond  all  bounds, 
the  moment  I  turn  my  mind  to  the  cost,  and  remember  my 
own  poverty,  I  see  nothing  but  hopelessness." 

"That 's  not  my  view  of  it;  nor  when  you  listen  to  me 
patiently  will  it,  I  believe,  be  yours.  Can  we  have  another 
talk  over  this  in  the  evening?  " 

"To  be  sure!  we  '11  dine  here  together  at  six." 

"Oh,  never  mind  me;  think  of  yourself,  Mr.  Kearney, 
and  your  own  engagements.  As  to  the  matter  of  dining,  a 
crust  of  bread  and  a  couple  of  apples  are  fully  as  much  as 
I  want  or  care  for." 

"We  '11  dine  together  to-day  at  six,"  said  Dick;  "and  bear 
in  mind,  I  am  more  interested  in  this  than  you  are." 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 


A   CRAFTY    COUNSELLOR. 


As  they  were  about  to  sit  down  to  dinner  on  that  day,  a 
telegram,  re-directed  from  Kilgobbin,  reached  Kearney's 
hand.  It  bore  the  date  of  that  morning  from  Plmnuddm 
Castle,  and  was  signed  "Atlee."  Its  contents  were  these: 
*'H.  E.  wants  to  mark  the  Kilgobbin  defence  with  some  sign 
of  approval.     What  shall  it  be?     Reply  by  wire." 

"Read  that,  and  tell  us  what  you  think  of  it." 

"Joe  Atlee  at  the  Viceroy's  castle  in  Wales!"  cried  the 
other.  ''  We  're  going  up  the  ladder  hand  over  head,  Mr. 
Kearney!  A  week  ago  his  ambition  was  bounded  on  the 
south  by  Ship  Street,  and  on  the  east  by  the  Lower  Castle 
Yard." 

"  How  do  you  understand  the  despatch?  "  asked  Kearney, 
quickly. 

"Easily  enough.  His  Excellency  wants  to  know  what 
you  '11  have  for  shooting  down  three  —  I  think  they  were 
three  —  Irishmen." 

"The  fellows  came  to  demand  arms,  and  with  loaded  guns 
in  their  hands." 

"And  if  they  did!  Is  not  the  first  right  of  a  man  the 
weapon  that  defends  him  ?  He  that  cannot  use  it  or  does 
not  possess  it  is  a  slave.  By  what  prerogative  has  Kilgob- 
bin Castle,  within  its  walls,  what  can  take  the  life  of  any, 
the  meanest,  tenant  on  the  estate  ?  " 

"I  am  not  going  to  discuss  this  with  you;  I  think  I  have 
heard  most  of  it  before,  and  was  not  impressed  when  I  did 
so.  What  I  asked  was,  what  sort  of  a  recognition  one  might 
safely  ask  for  and  reasonably  expect?" 

"That 's  not  long  to  look  for.  Let  them  support  you  in 
the  county.     Telegraph  back,  '  I  'm  going  to  stand,  and,  if 


210  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

I  get  in,  will  be  a  Whig  whenever  I  am  not  a  nationalist. 
Will  the  party  stand  by  me  ?  '  " 

"  Scarcely  with  that  programme." 

"And  do  you  think  that  the  priests'  nominees,  who  are 
three- fourths  of  the  Irish  members,  offer  better  terms  ?  Do 
you  imagine  that  the  men  that  crowd  the  Whig  lobby  have 
not  reserved  their  freedom  of  action  about  the  Pope,  and 
the  Fenian  prisoners,  and  the  Orange  processionists?  If 
they  were  not  free  so  far,  I  'd  ask  you,  with  the  old  Duke, 
How  is  her  Majesty's  Government  to  be  carried  on?  " 

Kearney  shook  his  head  in  dissent. 

"And  that 's  not  all,"  continued  the  other;  "but  you  must 
write  to  the  papers  a  flat  contradiction  of  that  shooting 
story.  You  must  either  declare  that  it  never  occurred  at  all, 
or  was  done  by  that  young  scamp  from  the  Castle,  who, 
happily,  got  as  much  as  he  gave." 

"That  I  could  not  do,"  said  Kearney,  firmly. 

"And  it  is  that  precisely  that  you  must  do,"  rejoined  the 
other.  "If  you  go  into  the  House  to  represent  the  popular 
feeling  of  Irishmen,  the  hand  that  signs  the  roll  must  not  be 
stained  with  Irish  blood." 

"You  forget;  I  was  not  within  fifty  miles  of  the  place." 

"And  another  reason  to  disavow  it.  Look  here,  Mr. 
Kearney;  if  a  man  in  a  battle  was  to  say  to  himself,  I  '11 
never  give  any  but  a  fair  blow,  he  'd  make  a  mighty  bad 
soldier.  Now,  public  life  is  a  battle,  and  worse  than  a 
battle  in  all  that  touches  treachery  and  falsehood.  If  you 
mean  to  do  any  good  in  the  world,  to  yourself  and  your 
country,  take  my  word  for  it,  you  '11  have  to  do  plenty 
of  things  that  you  don't  like,  and,  what's  worse,  can't 
defend." 

"The  soup  is  getting  cold  all  this  time.  Shall  we  sit 
down  ?  " 

"No,  not  till  we  answer  the  telegram.  Sit  down  and  say 
what  I  told  you." 

"Atlee  will  say  I'm  mad.  He  knows  that  I  have  not  a 
shilling  in  the  world." 

"Riches  is  not  the  badge  of  the  representation,"  said  the 
other. 

"They  can,  at  least,  pay  the  cost  of  the  elections." 


A  CRAFTY   COUNSELLOR.  211 

"Well,  we'll  pay  ours,  too,  —  not  all  at  once,  but  later  on ; 
don't  fret  yourself  about  that." 

"They  '11  refuse  me  flatly." 

"  No,  we  have  a  lien  on  the  fine  gentleman  with  the  broken 
arm.  What  would  the  Tories  give  for  that  story,  told  as  I 
could  tell  it  to  them?  At  all  events,  whatever  you  do  in 
life,  remember  this,  —  that  if  asked  your  price  for  anything 
you  have  done,  name  the  highest,  and  take  nothing  if  it 's 
refused  you.  It's  a  waiting  race,  but  I  never  knew  it  fail 
in  the  end." 

Kearney  despatched  his  message,  and  sat  down  to  t 
table,  far  too  much  flurried  and  excited  to  care  for  his 
dinner.  Not  so  his  guest,  who  ate  voraciously,  seldom 
raising  his  head,  and  never  uttering  a  word.  "Here  's  to 
the  new  member  for  King's  County,"  said  he  at  last,  and  he 
drained  off  his  glass;  "and  I  don't  know  a  pleasanter  way 
of  wishing  a  man  prosperity  than  in  a  bumper.  Has  your 
father  any  politics,  Mr.  Kearney?" 

"He  thinks  he's  a  Whig;  but,  except  hating  the  Estab- 
lished Church  and  having  a  print  of  Lord  Russell  over  the 
fireplace,  I  don't  know  he  has  other  reason  for  the  opinion." 

"All  right;  there  's  nothing  finer  for  a  young  man  enter- 
ing public  life  than  to  be  able  to  sneer  at  his  father  for  a 
noodle.  That 's  the  practical  way  to  show  contempt  for  the 
wisdom  of  our  ancestors.  There  's  no  appeal  the  public 
respond  to  with  the  same  certainty  as  that  of  the  man  who 
quarrels  with  his  relations  for  the  sake  of  his  principles; 
and  whether  it  be  a  change  in  your  politics  or  your  religion, 
they  're  sure  to  uphold  you." 

"If  differing  with  my  father  will  insure  my  success,  I 
can  afford  to  be  confident,"  said  Dick,  smiling. 

"Your  sister  has  her  notions  about  Ireland,  hasn't  she? " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  she  has ;  but  she  fancies  that  laws  and 
acts  of  Parliament  are  not  the  things  in  fault,  but  ourselves 
and  our  modes  of  dealing  with  the  people,  that  were  not 
often  just,  and  were  always  capricious.  I  am  not  sure  how 
she  works  out  her  problem,  but  I  believe  we  ought  to  edu- 
cate each  other;  and  that  in  turn,  for  teaching  the  people  to 
read  and  write,  there  are  scores  of  things  to  be  learned  from 
them." 


212  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

''And  the  Greek  girl?" 

"The  Greek  girl  —  "began  Dick,  haughtily,  and  with  a 
manner  that  betokened  rebuke,  and  which  suddenly  changed 
as  he  saw  that  nothing  in  the  other's  manner  gave  any 
indication  of  intended  freedom  or  insolence,  —  "the  Greek 
is  my  first  cousin,  Mr.  Donogan,"  said  he,  calmly;  "but  I 
am  anxious  to  know  how  you  have  heard  of  her,  or,  indeed, 
of  any  of  us." 

"From  Joe,  — Joe  Atlee!  I  believe  we  have  talked  you 
over  —  every  one  of  you  —  till  I  know  you  all  as  well  as  if  I 
lived  in  the  castle  and  called  you  by  your  Christian  names. 
Do  you  know,  Mr.  Kearney,"  —  and  his  voice  trembled  now 
as  he  spoke,  — "that  to  a  lone  and  desolate  man  like  myself, 
who  has  no  home  and  scarcely  a  country,  there  is  some- 
thing indescribably  touching  in  the  mere  picture  of  the  fire- 
side, and  the  family  gathered  round  it,  talking  over  little 
homely  cares  and  canvassing  the  changes  of  each  day's 
fortune.  I  could  sit  here  half  the  night  and  listen  to  Atlee 
telling  how  you  lived,  and  the  sort  of  things  that  interested 
you." 

"So  that  you  'd  actually  like  to  look  at  us?" 

Donogan' s  eyes  grew  glassy,  and  his  lips  trembled,  but 
he  could  not  utter  a  word. 

"So  you  shall,  then,"  cried  Dick,  resolutely.  "We'll 
start  to-morrow  by  the  early  train.  You  '11  not  object  to  a 
ten-miles'  walk,  and  we  '11  arrive  for  dinner." 

"Do  you  know  who  it  is  you  are  inviting  to  your  father's 
house  ?  Do  you  know  that  I  am  an  escaped  convict,  with  a 
price  on  my  head  this  minute  ?  Do  you  know  the  penalty 
of  giving  me  shelter,  or  even  what  the  law  calls  comfort?  " 

"I  know  this,  that  in  the  heart  of  the  Bog  of  Allen, 
you'll  be  far  safer  than  in  the  city  of  Dublin;  that  none 
shall  ever  learn  who  you  are ;  nor,  if  they  did,  is  there  one 
—  the  poorest  in  the  place  —  would  betray  you." 

"It  is  of  you,  sir,  I  'm  thinking,  not  of  me,"  said  Dono- 
gan, calmly. 

"  Don't  fret  yourself  about  us.  We  are  well  known  in 
our  county,  and  above  suspicion.  Whenever  you  yourself 
should  feel  that  your  presence  was  like  to  be  a  danger,  I  am 
quite  willing  to  believe  you  'd  take  yourself  off." 


A  CRAFTY  COUNSELLOR.  213 

*'You  judge  me  rightly,  sir,  and  I  am  proud  to  see  it; 
but  how  are  you  to  present  me  to  your  friends  ?  " 

"As  a  College  acquaintance,  — a  friend  of  Atlee's  and  of 
mine,  —  a  gentleman  who  occupied  the  room  next  me.  I 
can  surely  say  that  with  truth." 

"And  dined  w4th  you  every  day  since  you  knew  him. 
Why  not  add  that?" 

He  laughed  merrily  over  this  conceit,  and  at  last  Donogan 
said:  "I've  a  little  kit  of  clothes  —  something  decenter 
than  these  —  up  in  Thomas  Street,  No.  13,  Mr.  Kearney;  the 
old  house  Lord  Edward  was  shot  in,  and  the  safest  place  in 
Dublin  now,  because  it  is  so  notorious.  I  '11  step  up  for 
them  this  evening,  and  I  '11  be  ready  to  start  when  you 
like." 

"Here  's  good  fortune  to  us,  whatever  we  do  next,"  said 
Kearney,  filling  both  their  glasses;  and  they  touched  the 
brims  together,  and  clinked  them  before  they  drained 
them. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 


ON    THE    LEADS. 


Kate  Kearney's  room  was  on  the  top  of  the  castle,  and 
"gave  "  by  a  window  over  the  leads  of  a  large  square  tower. 
On  this  space  she  had  made  a  little  garden  of  a  few  flowers, 
to  tend  which  was  one  of  what  she  called  her  "dissipations." 

Some  old  packing-cases,  filled  with  mould,  sufficed  to 
nourish  a  few  stocks  and  carnations,  a  rose  or  two,  and  a 
mass  of  mignonette,  which  possibly,  like  the  children  of 
the  poor,  grew  up  sturdy  and  healthy  from  some  of  the 
adverse  circumstances  of  their  condition.  It  was  a  very 
favorite  spot  with  her ;  and  if  she  came  hither  in  her  hap- 
piest moments,  it  was  here  also  her  saddest  hours  were 
passed,  sure  that  in  the  cares  and  employments  of  her  loved 
plants  she  would  find  solace  and  consolation.  It  was  at  this 
window  Kate  now  sat  with  Nina,  looking  over  the  vast 
plain,  on  which  a  rich  moonlight  was  streaming,  the  shadows 
of  fast-flitting  clouds  throwing  strange  and  fanciful  effects 
over  a  space  almost  wide  enough  to  be  a  prairie. 

"What  a  deal  have  mere  names  to  do  with  our  imagina- 
tions, Nina!"  said  Kate.  "Is  not  that  boundless  sweep 
before  us  as  fine  as  your  boasted  Campagna?  Does  not 
the  night  wind  career  over  it  as  joyfully,  and  is  not  the 
moonlight  as  picturesque  in  its  breaks  by  turf-clamp  and 
hillock  as  by  ruined  wall  and  tottering  temple?  In  a 
word,  are  not  we  as  well  here,  to  drink  in  all  this  delicious 
silence,  as  if  we  were  sitting  on  your  loved  Pincian?  " 

"Don't  ask  me  to  share  such  heresies.  I  see  nothing 
out  there  but  bleak  desolation.  I  don't  know  if  it  ever  had 
a  past ;  I  can  almost  swear  it  will  have  no  future.  Let  us 
not  talk  of  it." 

"What  shall  we  talk  of  ?  "  asked  Kate,  with  an  arch  smile. 


"ON  THE  LEADS."  215 

"  You  know  well  enough  what  led  me  up  here.  I  want  to 
hear  what  you  know  of  that  strange  man  Dick  brought  here 
to-day  to  dinner." 

"I  never  saw  him  before;  never  even  heard  of  him." 

"Do  you  like  him?  " 

"I  have  scarcely  seen  him." 

"Don't  be  so  guarded  and  reserved.  Tell  me  frankly  the 
impression  he  makes  on  you.  Is  he  not  vulgar,  —  very 
vulgar?" 

"How  should  I  say,  Nina?  Of  all  the  people  you  ever 
met,  who  knows  so  little  of  the  habits  of  society  as  myself? 
Those  fine  gentlemen  who  were  here  the  other  day  shocked 
my  ignorance  by  numberless  little  displays  of  indifference. 
Yet  I  can  feel  that  they  must  have  been  paragons  of  good 
breeding,  and  that  what  I  believed  to  be  a  very  cool  self- 
sufficiency  was  in  reality  the  very  latest  London  version 
of  good  manners." 

"  Oh,  you  did  not  like  that  charming  carelessness  of  Eng- 
lishmen that  goes  where  it  likes  and  when  it  likes,  that  does 
not  wait  to  be  answered  when  it  questions,  and  only  insists 
on  one  thing,  which  is,  — '  not  to  be  bored. '  Jf  you  knew, 
dearest  Kate,  how  foreigners  school  themselves,  and  strive 
to  catch  up  that  insouciance,  and  never  succeed  —  never!  " 

"My  brother's  friend  certainly  is  no  adept  in  it." 

"He  is  insufferable.  I  don't  know  that  the  man  ever 
dined  in  the  company  of  ladies  before ;  did  you  remark  that 
he  did  not  open  the  door  as  we  left  the  dinner-room?  and 
if  your  brother  had  not  come  over,  I  should  have  had  to 
open  it  for  myself.  I  declare  I  'm  not  sure  he  stood  up  as 
we  passed." 

"Oh,  yes;  I  saw  him  rise  from  his  chair." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  you  did  not  see.  You  did  not  see 
him  open  his  napkin  at  dinner.  He  stole  his  roll  of  bread 
very  slyly  from  the  folds,  and  then  placed  the  napkin,  care- 
fully folded,  beside  him." 

"You  seem  to  have  obsers^ed  him  closely,  Nina." 

"I  did  so,  because  I  saw  enough  in  his  manner  to  excite 
suspicion  of  his  class,  and  I  want  to  know  what  Dick  means 
by  introducing  him  here." 

"  Papa  liked  him;  at  least  he  said  that  after  we  left  the 


216  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

room  a  good  deal  of  his  shyness  wore  off,  and  that  he  con- 
versed pleasantly  and  well.  Above  all,  he  seems  to  know 
Ireland  perfectly." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  she,  half  disdainfully. 

''  So  much  so  that  I  was  heartily  sorry  to  leave  the  room 
when  I  heard  them  begin  the  topic ;  but  I  saw  papa  wished 
to  have  some  talk  with  him,  and  I  went." 

''They  were  gallant  enough  not  to  join  us  afterwards, 
though  I  think  we  waited  tea  till  ten." 

"Till  nigh  eleven,  Nina;  so  that  I  am  sure  they  must 
have  been  interested  in  their  conversation." 

"  I  hope  the  explanation  excuses  them." 

"  I  don't  know  that  they  are  aware  they  needed  an 
apology.  Perhaps  they  were  affecting  a  little  of  that  British 
insouciance  you  spoke  of  —  " 

"  They  had  better  not.  It  will  sit  most  awkwardly  on 
their  Irish  habits." 

''  Some  day  or  other  I'll  give  you  a  formal  battle  on  this 
score,  Nina,  and  I  warn  you  you  '11  not  come  so  well  out 
of  it." 

''  Whenever  you  like.  I  accept  the  challenge.  Make 
this  brilliant  companion  of  your  brother's  the  type,  and  it 
will  test  your  cleverness,  I  promise  you.  Do  you  even 
know  his  name  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Daniel,  my  brother  called  him  ;  but  I  know  nothing 
of  his  country  or  of  his  belongings." 

"  Daniel  is  a  Christian  name,  not  a  family  name,  is  it 
not?  We  have  scores  of  people  like  that  —  Tommasina, 
Riccardi,  and  such  like  — in  Italy,  but  they  mean  nothing." 

"Our  friend  below  stairs  looks  as  if  that  was  not  his 
failing.     I  should  say  that  he  means  a  good  deal." 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  are  laughing  at  my  stupid  phrase  —  no 
matter;  you  understand  me,  at  all  events.  I  don't  like 
that  man." 

"Dick's  friends  are  not  fortunate  with  you.  I  remem- 
ber how  unfavorably  you  judged  of  Mr.  Atlee  from  his 
portrait." 

"Well,  he  looked  rather  better  than  his  picture, — less 
false,  I  mean ;  or  perhaps  it  was  that  he  had  a  certain  levity 
of  manner  that  carried  off  the  perfidy." 


"ON  THE  LEADS."  217 

*'  What  an  amiable  sort  of  levity  !  " 

"  You  are  too  critical  on  me  by  half  this  evening,"  said 
Nina,  pettishly ;  and  she  arose  and  strolled  out  upon  the 
leads. 

For  some  time  Kate  was  scarcely  aware  she  had  gone. 
Her  head  was  full  of  cares,  and  she  sat  trying  to  think 
some  of  them  "out,"  and  see  her  w^ay  to  deal  with  them. 
At  last  the  door  of  the  room  slowly  and  noiselessly  opened, 
and  Dick  put  in  his  head. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  might  be  asleep,  Kate,"  said  he,  enter- 
ing, "  finding  all  so  still  and  quiet  here." 

"No.  Nina  and  I  were  chatting  here, — squabbling,  I 
believe,  if  I  were  to  tell  the  truth ;  and  I  can't  tell  when 
she  left  me." 

"  What  could  you  be  quarrelling  about?"  asked  he,  as  he 
sat  down  beside  her. 

"  I  think  it  was  with  that  strange  friend  of  yours.  We 
were  not  quite  agreed  whether  his  manners  were  perfect,  or 
his  habits  those  of  the  w^ell-bred  world.  Then  we  wanted 
to  know  more  of  him,  and  each  was  dissatisfied  that  the 
other  was  so  ignorant ;  and,  lastly,  we  were  canvassing  that 
very  peculiar  taste  you  appear  to  have  in  friends,  and  were 
wondering  where  you  find  your  odd  people." 

"  So  then  you  don't  like  Donogan?  "  said  he,  hurriedly. 

"  Like  whom?     And  you  call  him  Donogan  !  " 

"The  mischief  is  out,"  said  he.  "Not  that  I  wanted  to 
have  secrets  from  you ;  but  all  the  same,  I  am  a  precious 
bungler.  His  name  is  Donogan,  and  what 's  more,  it 's 
Daniel  Donogan.  He  was  the  same  who  figured  in  the  dock 
at,  I  believe,  sixteen  years  of  age,  with  Smith  O'Brien  and 
the  others,  and  was  afterwards  seen  in  England  in  '59, 
known  as  a  head-centre,  and  apprehended  on  suspicion  in  '60, 
and  made  his  escape  from  Dartmoor  the  same  year.  There  's 
a  very  pretty  biography  in  skeleton,  is  it  not?  " 

"  But,  my  dear  Dick,  how  are  you  connected  with  him?  " 

"Not  very  seriously.  Don't  be  afraid.  I'm  not  com- 
promised in  any  way,  nor  does  he  desire  that  I  should  be. 
Here  is  the  whole  story  of  our  acquaintance." 

And  now  he  told  what  the  reader  already  knows  of  their 
first  meeting  and  the  intimacy  that  followed  it. 


218  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

"All  that  will  take  nothing  from  the  danger  of  harboring 
a  man  charged  as  he  is,"  said  she,  gravely. 

"  That  is  to  say,  if  he  be  tracked  and  discovered." 

"  It  is  what  I  mean." 

"  Well,  one  has  only  to  look  out  of  that  window  and  see 
where  we  are,  and  what  lies  around  us  on  every  side,  to  be 
tolerably  easy  on  that  score." 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  arose,  and  walked  out  upon  the 
terrace. 

"What!  were  you  here  all  this  time?"  asked  he,  as  he 
saw  Nina  seated  on  the  battlement,  and  throwing  dried 
leaves  carelessly  to  the  wind. 

"Yes;   I  have  been  here  this  half-hour,  perhaps  longer." 

"  And  heard  what  we  have  been  saying  within  there?  " 

"  Some  chance  words  reached  me,  but  I  did  not  follow 
them." 

"Oh,  it  was  here  you  were  then,  Nina!  "  cried  Kate. 
"  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  did  not  know  it." 

"We  got  so  warm  in  discussing  your  friend's  merits  or 
demerits  that  we  parted  in  a  sort  of  huff,"  said  Nina.  "I 
wonder  was  he  worth  quarrelling  for  ?  " 

"What  should  you  say?"  asked  Dick,  inquiringly,  as  he 
scanned  her  face. 

"  In  any  other  land  I  might  say  he  was,  — that  is,  that 
some  interest  might  attach  to  him ;  but  here,  in  Ireland, 
you  all  look  so  much  brighter  and  wittier  and  more  im- 
petuous and  more  out  of  the  common  than  you  really  are, 
that  I  give  up  all  divination  of  you,  and  own  I  cannot  read 
you  at  all." 

'.'  I  hope  you  like  the  explanation,"  said  Kate  to  her 
brother,  laughing. 

"I'll  tell  my  friend  of  it  in  the  morning,"  said  Dick; 
"  and  as  he  is  a  great  national  champion,  perhaps  he  '11 
accept  it  as  a  defiance." 

"You  do  not  frighten  me  by  the  threat,"  said  Nina, 
calmly. 

Dick  looked  from  her  face  to  his  sister's  and  back  again 
to  hers,  to  discern  if  he  might  how  much  she  had  over- 
heard ;  but  he  could  read  nothing  in  her  cold  and  impas- 
sive bearing,  and  he  went  his  way  in  doubt  and  confusion. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

ON    A   VISIT   AT   KILGOBBIN. 

Before  Kearney  had  risen  from  his  bed  the  next  morning, 
Donogan  was  in  his  room,  his  look  elated  and  his  cheek 
glowing  with  recent  exercise.  "  I  have  had  a  burst  of  two 
hours'  sharp  walking  over  the  bog,"  cried  he;  "and  it  has 
put  me  in  such  spirits  as  I  have  not  known  for  many  a 
year.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Kearney,  that  what  with  the 
fantastic  effects  of  the  morning  mists,  as  they  lift  them- 
selves over  these  vast  wastes,  —  the  glorious  patches  of  blue 
heather  and  purple  anemone  that  the  sun  displays  through 
the  fog,  —  and,  better  than  all,  the  springiness  of  a  soil 
that  sends  a  thrill  to  the  heart,  like  a  throb  of  youth  it- 
self, —  there  is  no  walking  in  the  world  can  compare  with  a 
bog  at  sunrise !  There 's  a  sentiment  to  open  a  paper  on 
nationalities !  I  came  up  with  the  postboy,  and  took  his 
letters  to  save  him  a  couple  of  miles.  Here's  one  for  you, 
I  think  from  Atlee ;  and  this  is  also  to  your  address,  from 
Dublin ;  and  here 's  the  last  number  of  the  '  Pike,'  and 
you'll  see  they  have  lost  no  time.  There's  a  few  lines 
about  you :  '  Our  readers  will  be  grateful  to  us  for  the  tid- 
ings we  announce  to-day,  with  authority,  —  that  Richard 
Kearney,  Esq.,  son  of  Mathew  Kearney,  of  Kilgobbin 
Castle,  will  contest  his  native  county  at  the  approaching 
election.  It  will  be  a  proud  day  for  Ireland  when  she  shall 
see  her  representation  in  the  names  of  those  who  dignify 
the  exalted  station  they  hold  in  virtue  of  their  birth  and 
blood,  by  claims  of  admitted  talent  and  recognized  ability. 
Mr.  Kearney,  junior,  has  swept  the  University  of  its  prizes, 
and  the  College  gate  has  long  seen  his  name  at  the  head 
of  her  prizemen.  He  contests  the  seat  in  the  national 
interest.  It  is  needless  to  say  all  our  sympathies  and 
hopes  and  best  wishes  go  with  him.'" 


220  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

Dick  shook  with  laughing  while  the  other  read  out  the 
paragraph  in  a  high-sounding  and  pretentious  tone. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Kearney,  at  last,  "  that  the  information 
as  to  my  College  successes  is  not  vouched  for  on  authority." 

"Who  cares  a  fig  about  them?  The  phrase  rounds  off 
a  sentence,  and  nobody  treats  it  like  an  affidavit." 

"  But  some  one  may  take  the  trouble  to  remind  the 
readers  that  my  victories  have  been  defeats,  and  that  in 
my  last  examination  but  one  I  got  'cautioned.'" 

"Do  you  imagine,  Mr.  Kearney,  the  House  of  Commons 
in  any  way  reflects  college  distinction?  Do  you  look  for 
senior- wranglers  and  double-firsts  on  the  Treasury  bench? 
and  are  not  the  men  who  carry  away  distinction  the  men 
of  breadth,  not  depth?  Is  it  not  the  wide  acquaintance  with 
a  large  field  of  knowledge,  and  the  subtle  power  to  know 
how  other  men  regard  these  topics,  that  make  the  popu- 
lar leader  of  the  present  day?  And  remember,  it  is  talk, 
and  not  oratory,  is  the  mode.  You  must  be  commonplace, 
and  even  vulgar,  practical,  dashed  with  a  small  morality, 
so  as  not  to  be  classed  with  the  low  Radical ;  and  if  then 
you  have  a  bit  of  high  falutin  for  the  peroration,  you  'U 
do.  The  morning  papers  will  call  you  a  young  man  of 
great  promise,  and  the  whip  will  never  pass  you  without 
a  shake-hands." 

"  But  there  are  good  speakers." 

"  There  is  Bright,  —  I  don't  think  I  know  another,  —  and 
he  only  at  times.  Take  my  word  for  it,  the  secret  of  success 
with  '  the  collective  wisdom  '  is  reiteration.  Tell  them  the 
same  thing,  not  once  or  twice  or  even  ten,  but  fifty  times, 
and  don't  vary  very  much  even  the  way  you  tell  it.  Go  on 
repeating  your  platitudes,  and  by  the  time  you  find  you  are 
cursing  your  own  stupid  persistence,  you  may  swear  3^ou 
have  made  a  convert  to  your  opinions.  If  you  are  bent  on 
variety,  and  must  indulge  it,  ring  your  changes  on  the  man 
who  brought  these  views  before  them,  —  yourself,  but  beyond 
these  never  soar.  O'Connell,  who  had  a  variety  at  will  for 
his  own  countrymen,  never  tried  it  in  England :  he  knew 
better.  The  chawbacons  that  we  sneer  at  are  not  always  in 
smock-frocks,  take  my  word  for  it ;  they  many  of  them  wear 
wide-brimmed  hats  and  broadcloth,  and  sit  above  the  gang- 


ON  A  VISIT  AT   KILGOBBIN.  221 

way.  Ay,  sir,"  cried  he,  warming  with  the  theme,  "once  I 
can  get  my  countrymen  fully  awakened  to  the  fact  of  who 
and  what  are  the  men  who  rule  them,  I  '11  ask  for  no  Catholic 
Associations,  or  Repeal  Committees,  or  Nationalist  Clubs,  — 
the  card-house  of  British  supremacy  will  tumble  of  itself ; 
there  will  be  no  conflict,  but  simply  submission." 

' '  We  're  a  long  day's  journey  from  these  convictions,  I 
suspect,"  said  Kearney,  doubtfully. 

"  Not  so  far,  perhaps,  as  you  think.  Do  you  remark  how 
little  the  English  press  deal  in  abuse  of  us  to  what  was  once 
their  custom  ?  They  have  not,  I  admit,  come  down  to  civility ; 
but  they  don't  deride  us  in  the  old  fashion,  nor  tell  us,  as  T 
once  saw,  that  we  are  intellectually  and  physically  stamped 
with  inferiority.  If  it  was  true,  Mr.  Kearney,  it  was  stupid 
to  tell  it  to  us." 

"  I  think  we  could  do  better  than  dwell  upon  these  things." 

"  I  deny  that:  deny  it  in  toto.  The  moment  you  forget, 
in  your  dealings  with  the  Englishman,  the  cheap  estimate  he 
entertains,  not  alone  of  your  brains  and  your  skill,  but  of 
your  resolution,  your  persistence,  your  strong  will,  ay,  your 
very  integrity,  that  moment,  I  say,  places  him  in  a  position 
to  treat  you  as  something  below  him.  Bear  in  mind,  how- 
ever, how  he  is  striving  to  regard  you,  and  it's  your  own 
fault  if  you're  not  his  equal,  and  something  more  perhaps. 
There  was  a  man  more  than  the  master  of  them  all,  and  his 
name  was  Edmund  Burke;  and  how  did  they  treat  him? 
How  insolently  did  they  behave  to  O'Connell  in  the  House 
till  he  put  his  heel  on  them?  Were  they  generous  to  Shell? 
Were  they  just  to  Plunkett  ?  No,  no.  The  element  that  they 
decry  in  our  people  they  know  they  have  not  got,  and  they  'd 
like  to  crush  the  race,  when  they  cannot  extinguish  the 
quality." 

Donogan  had  so  excited  himself  now  that  he  walked  up 
and  down  the  room,  his  voice  ringing  with  emotion,  and 
his  arms  wildly  tossing  in  all  the  extravagance  of  passion. 
"This  is  from  Joe  Atlee,"  said  Kearney,  as  he  tore  open 
the  envelope :  — 

"  '  Dear  Dick,  —  I  cannot  account  for  the  madness  that  seems 
to  have  seized  you,  except  that  Dan  Donogan,  the  most  rabid  dog  I 
know,  has  bitten  you.     If  so,  for  heaven's  sake  have  the  piece  cut 


222  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

out  at  once,  and  use  the  strongest  cautery  of  common  sense,  if  you 
know  of  any  one  who  has  a  little  to  spare.  I  only  remembered 
yesterday  that  I  ought  to  have  told  you  I  had  sheltered  Dan  in  our 
rooms,  but  I  can  already  detect  that  you  have  made  his  acquaint- 
ance. He  is  not  a  bad  fellow.  He  is  sincere  in  his  opinions,  and 
incorruptible,  if  that  be  the  name  for  a  man  who,  if  bought  to-mor- 
row, would  not  be  worth  sixpence  to  his  owner. 

"  '  Though  I  resigned  all  respect  for  my  own  good  sense  in  telling 
it,  I  was  obliged  to  let  H.  E.  know  the  contents  of  your  despatch, 
and  then,  as  1  saw  he  had  never  heard  of  Kilgobbin,  or  the  great 
Kearney  family,  I  told  more  lies  of  your  estated  property,  your 
county  station,  your  influence  generally,  and  your  abilities  individu- 
ally, than  the  fee-simple  of  your  property,  converted  into  masses, 
will  see  me  safe  through  purgatory ;  and  I  have  consequently  baited 
the  trap  that  has  caught  myself  ;  for,  persuaded  by  my  eloquent  ad- 
vocacy of  you  all,  H.  E.  has  written  to  Walpole  to  make  certain 
inquiries  concerning  you,  which,  if  satisfactory,  he,  Walpole,  will 
put  himself  in  communication  with  you,  as  to  the  extent  and  the 
mode  to  which  the  Government  will  support  you.  I  think  T  can  see 
Dan  Donogan's  fine  hand  in  that  part  of  your  note  which  fore- 
shadows a  threat,  and  hints  that  the  Walpole  story  would,  if  pub- 
lished abroad,  do  enormous  damage  to  the  Ministry.  This,  let  me 
assure  you,  is  a  fatal  error,  and  a  blunder  which  could  only  be  com- 
mitted by  an  outsider  in  political  life.  The  days  are  long  past  since 
a  scandal  could  smash  an  administration  ;  and  we  are  so  strong  now 
that  arson  or  forgery  could  not  hurt,  and  I  don't  think  that  infanti- 
cide would  affect  us. 

"  '  If  you  are  really  bent  on  this  wild  exploit,  you  should  see  Wal- 
pole, and  confer  with  him.  You  don't  talk  well,  but  you  write 
worse ;  so  avoid  correspondence,  and  do  all  your  indiscretions  ver- 
bally.    Be  angry  if  you  like  with  my  candor,  but  follow  my  counsel. 

" '  See  him,  and  show  him,  if  you  are  able,  that,  all  questions  of 
nationality  apart,  he  may  count  upon  your  vote  ;  that  there  are 
certain  impracticable  and  impossible  conceits  in  politics,  —  like  re- 
peal, subdivision  of  land,  restoration  of  the  confiscated  estates,  and 
such  like,  — on  which  Irishmen  insist  on  being  free  to  talk  balder- 
dash, and  air  their  patriotism  ;  but  that,  rightfully  considered,  they 
are  as  harmless  and  mean  just  as  little  as  a  discussion  on  the 
Digamma,  or  a  debate  on  perpetual  motion.  The  stupid  Tories 
could  never  be  brought  to  see  this.  Like  genuine  dolts,  they  would 
have  an  army  of  supporters  one-minded  with  them  in  everything. 
We  know  better,  and  hence  we  buy  the  Radical  vote  by  a  little 
coquetting  with  communism,  and  the  model  working-man  and  the 
rebel  by  an  occasional  jail- delivery,  and  the  Papist  by  a  sop  to  the 
Holy  Father.     Bear  in  mind,  Dick,  —  and  it  is  the  grand  secret  of 


ON  A  VISIT  AT  KILGOBBIN.  223 

political  life,  —  it  takes  all  sorts  of  people  to  make  a  "  party."  When 
you  have  thoroughly  digested  this  aphorism,  you  are  fit  to  start  in 
the  world. 

"  *  If  you  were  not  so  full  of  what  I  am  sure  you  would  call  your 
"  legitimate  ambitions,"  I  'd  like  to  tell  you  the  glorious  life  we  lead 
in  this  place.  Disraeli  talks  of  "  the  well-sustained  splendor  of  their 
stately  lives,"  and  it  is  just  the  phrase  for  an  existence  in  which  all 
the  appliances  to  ease  and  enjoyment  are  supplied  by  a  sort  of 
magic,  that  never  shows  its  machinery,  nor  lets  you  hear  the  sound 
of  its  working.  The  saddle-horses  know  when  I  want  to  ride  by  the 
same  instinct  that  makes  the  butler  give  me  the  exact  wine  I  wish 
at  my  dinner.  And  so  on  throughout  the  day,  "  the  sustained  splen- 
dor" being  an  ever-present  luxuriousness  that  I  drink  in  with  a 
thirst  that  knows  no  slaking. 

'''I  have  made  a  hit  with  H.  E.,  and,  from  copying  some  rather 
muddle-headed  despatches,  I  am  now  promoted  to  writing  short 
skeleton  sermons  on  politics,  which,  duly  filled  out  and  fattened  with 
official  nutriment,  will  one  day  astonish  the  Irish  Office,  and  make 
one  of  the  Nestors  of  bureaucracy  exclaim,  "  See  how  Danesbury 
has  got  up  the  Irish  question." 

"  '  I  have  a  charming  coUaborateur,  my  Lord's  niece,  who  was 
acting  as  his  private  secretary  up  to  the  time  of  my  arrival,  and 
whose  explanation  of  a  variety  of  things  I  found  to  be  so  essential 
that,  from  being  at  first  in  the  continual  necessity  of  seeking  her  out, 
I  have  now  arrived  at  a  point  at  which  we  write  in  the  same  room, 
and  pass  our  mornings  in  the  library  till  luncheon.  She  is  stun- 
ningly handsome,  as  tall  as  the  Greek  cousin,  and  with  a  stately 
grace  of  manner  and  a  cold  dignity  of  demeanor  I  'd  give  my  heart's 
blood  to  subdue  to  a  mood  of  womanly  tenderness  and  dependence. 
Up  to  this,  my  position  is  that  of  a  very  humble  courtier  in  the 
presence  of  a  queen,  and  she  takes  care  that  by  no  momentary 
forgetfulness  shall  I  lose  sight  of  the  "  situation." 

"  '  She  is  engaged,  they  say,  to  be  married  to  Walpole  ;  but  as  I 
have  not  heard  that  he  is  heir- apparent,  or  has  even  the  reversion 
to  the  crown  of  Spain,  I  cannot  perceive  what  the  contract  means. 

"  '  I  rode  out  with  her  to-day  by  special  invitation,  or  permission, 
—  which  was  it?  —  and  in  the  few  words  that  passed  between  us, 
she  asked  me  if  I  had  long  known  Mr.  Walpole,  and  put  her  horse 
into  a  canter  without  waiting  for  my  answer. 

"  '  With  H.  E.  I  can  talk  away  freely  and  without  constraint. 
I  am  never  very  sure  that  he  does  not  know  the  things  he  questions 
me  on  better  than  myself,  —  a  practice  some  of  his  order  rather  cul- 
tivate ;  but,  on  the  whole,  our  intercourse  is  easy.  I  know  he  is 
not  a  little  puzzled  about  me,  and  I  intend  that  he  should  remain  so. 

"  *  When  you  have  seen  and  spoken  with  Walpole,  write  me  what 


224  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

has  taken  place  between  you ;  and  though  I  am  fully  convinced  that 
what  you  intend  is  unmitigated  folly,  I  see  so  many  difficulties  in  the 
way,  such  obstacles,  and  such  almost  impossibilities  to  be  overcome, 
that  I  think  Fate  will  be  more  merciful  to  you  than  your  ambitions, 
and  spare  you,  by  an  early  defeat,  from  a  crushing  disappointment. 

"  '  Had  you  ambitioned  to  be  a  governor  of  a  colony,  a  bishop, 
or  a  Queen's  messenger,  —  they  are  the  only  irresponsible  people  I 
can  think  of, — I  might  have  helped  you;  but  this  conceit  to  be  a 
Parliament  man  is  such  irredeemable  folly,  one  is  powerless  to  deal 
with  it. 

"  '  At  all  events,  your  time  is  not  worth  much,  nor  is  your  public 
character  of  a  very  grave  importance.  Give  them  both,  then,  freely 
to  the  effort,  but  do  not  let  it  cost  you  money,  nor  let  Donogan  per- 
suade you  that  you  are  one  of  those  men  who  can  make  patriotism 
self-supporting. 

"  '  H.  E.  hints  at  a  very  confidential  mission  on  which  he  desires 
to  employ  me ;  and  though  I  should  leave  this  place  now,  with  much 
regret,  and  a  more  tender  sorrow  than  I  could  teach  you  to  compre- 
hend, I  shall  hold  myself  at  his  orders  for  Japan  if  he  wants  me. 
Meanwhile,  write  to  me  what  takes  place  with  Walpole,  and  put 
your  faith  firmly  in  the  good-will  and  efficiency  of 
" '  Yours  truly, 

" '  Joe  Atlee." 

"  *  If  you  think  of  taking  Donogan  down  with  you  to  Kilgobbin,  I 
ought  to  tell  you  that  it  would  be  a  mistake.  Women  invariably 
dislike  him,  and  he  would  do  you  no  credit.' " 

Dick  Kearney,  who  had  begun  to  read  this  letter  aloud, 
saw  himself  constrained  to  continue,  and  went  on  boldly, 
without  stop  or  hesitation,  to  the  last  word. 

"I  am  very  grateful  to  you,  Mr.  Kearney,  for  this  mark 
of  trustfulness,  and  I  'm  not  in  the  least  sore  about  'all  Joe 
has  said  of  me." 

"He  is  not  over  complimentary  to  myself,"  said  Kearney ; 
and  the  irritation  he  felt  was  not  to  be  concealed. 

"There's  one  passage  in  his  letter,"  said  the  other, 
thoughtfully,  "  well  worth  all  the  stress  he  lays  on  it.  He 
tells  you  never  to  forget  it  '  takes  all  sorts  of  men  to  make 
a  party.'  Nothing  can  more  painfully  prove  the  fact  than 
that  we  need  Joe  Atlee  amongst  ourselves !  And  it  is  true, 
Mr.  Kearney,"  said  he,  sternly,  "treason  must  now,  to  have 
any  chance  at  all,  be  many-handed.  We  want  not  only  all 
sorts  of  men,  but  in  all  sorts  of  places ;  and  at  tables  where 


ON  A  VISIT  AT  KILGOBBIN.  225 

rebel  opinions  dared  not  be  boldly  announced  and  defended, 
we  want  people  who  can  coquet  with  felony,  and  get  men  to 
talk  over  treason  with  little  if  any  ceremony.  Joe  can  do 
this,  —  he  can  write,  and,  what  is  better,  sing  you  a  Fenian 
ballad,  and  if  he  sees  he  has  made  a  mistake,  he  can  quiz 
himself  and  his  song  as  cavalierly  as  he  has  sung  it !  And 
now,  on  my  solemn  oath,  I  say  it,  I  don't  know  that  any- 
thing worse  has  befallen  us  than  the  fact  that  there  are  such 
men  as  Joe  Atlee  amongst  us,  and  that  we  need  them,  —  ay, 
sir,  we  need  them  !  " 

"This  is  brief  enough,  at  any  rate,"  said  Kearney,  as  he 
broke  open  the  second  letter  :  — 

"  *  Dublin  Castle,  Wednesday  Evening. 
"  *  Dear  Sir,  —  Would  you  do  me  the  great  favor  to  call  on  me 
here  at  your  earliest  convenient  moment  ?     I  am  still  an  invalid,  and 
confined  to  a  sofa,  or  would  ask  for  permission  to  meet  you  at  your 
chambers. 

" '  Believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

" '  Cecil  Walpole.'" 

"That  cannot  be  delayed,  I  suppose?"  said  Kearney,  in 
the  tone  of  a  question. 

"Certainly  not." 

"  I  '11  go  up  by  the  night  mail.  You  '11  remain  where  you 
are,  and  where  I  hope  you  feel  you  are  with  a  welcome." 

"I  feel  it,  sir, — I  feel  it  more  than  I  can  say."  And 
his  face  was  blood-red  as  he  spoke. 

"  There  are  scores  of  things  you  can  do  while  I  am  away. 
You  '11  have  to  study  the  county  in  all  its  baronies  and  sub- 
divisions. There  my  sister  can  help  you ;  and  you  '11  have 
to  learn  the  names  and  places  of  our  great  county  swells, 
and  mark  such  as  may  be  likely  to  assist  us.  You  '11  have 
to  stroll  about  in  our  own  neighborhood,  and  learn  what 
the  people  near  home  say  of  the  intention,  and  pick  up 
what  you  can  of  public  opinion  in  our  towns  of  Moate  and 
Kilbeggan." 

"I  have  bethought  me  of  all  that  — "  He  paused  here, 
and  seemed  to  hesitate  if  he  should  say  more ;  and,  after  an 
effort,  he  went  on:  "You'll  not  take  amiss  what  I'm 
going  to  say,  Mr.  Kearney.     You'll  make  full  allowance 

15 


226  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

for  a  man  placed  as  I  am;  but  I  want,  before  you  go,  to 
learn  from  you  in  what  way,  or  as  what,  you  have  presented 
me  to  your  family.  Am  I  a  poor  sizar  of  Trinity,  whose 
hard  struggle  with  poverty  has  caught  your  sympathy  ?  Am 
I  a  chance  acquaintance,  whose  only  claim  on  you  is  being 
known  to  Joe  Atlee?  I'm  sure  I  need  not  ask  you,  have 
you  called  me  by  my  real  name  and  given  me  my  real 
character  ?  " 

Kearney  flushed  up  to  the  eyes,  and  laying  his  hand  on 
the  other's  shoulder,  ' '  This  is  exactly  what  I  have  done. 
1  have  told  my  sister  that  you  are  the  noted  Daniel  Donogan, 
United  Irishman  and. rebel." 

"But  only  to  your  sister?  " 

*'  To  none  other." 

'*  jShe'W  not  betray  me,  I  know  that." 

''  You  are  right  there,  Donogan.  Here 's  how  it  happened, 
for  it  was  not  intended."  And  now  he  related  how  the  name 
had  escaped  him. 

"  So  that  the  cousin  knows  nothing?  " 

''Nothing  whatever.  My  sister  Kate  is  not  one  to  make 
rash  confidences,  and  you  may  rely  on  it  she  has  not  told 
her." 

''I  hope  and  trust  that  this  mistake  will  serve  you  for  a 
lesson,  Mr.  Kearney,  and  show  you  that  to  keep  a  secret  it 
is  not  enough  to  have  an  honest  intention,  but  a  man  must 
have  a  watch  over  his  thoughts  and  a  padlock  on  his  tongue. 
And  now  to  something  of  more  importance.  In  your  meet- 
ing with  Walpole,  mind  one  thing :  no  modesty,  no  humility ; 
make  your  demands  boldly,  and  declare  that  your  price  is 
well  worth  the  paying ;  let  him  feel  that,  as  he  must  make 
a  choice  between  the  priests  and  the  nationalists,  that  we 
are  the  easier  of  the  two  to  deal  with,  —  first  of  all,  we 
don't  press  for  prompt  payment;  and  secondly,  we'll  not 
shock  Exeter  Hall !  Show  him  that  strongly,  and  tell  him 
that  there  are  clever  fellows  amongst  us  who  '11  not  compro- 
mise him  or  his  party,  and"  will  never  desert  him  on  a  close 
division.  Oh,  dear  me,  how  I  wish  I  was  going  in  your 
place!" 

"So  do  I,  with  all  my  heart;  but  there  's  ten  striking,  and 
we  shall  be  late  for  breakfast." 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

THE     MOATE     STATION. 

The  train  by  which  Miss  Betty  O'Shea  expected  her  nephew 
was  late  in  its  arrival  at  Moate;  and  Peter  Gill,  who  had 
been  sent  with  the  car  to  fetch  him  over,  was  busily  dis- 
cussing his  second  supper  when  the  passengers  arrived. 

"Are  you  Mr.  Gorman  O'Shea,  sir?"  asked  Peter,  of  a 
well-dressed  and  well-looking  young  man  who  had  just 
taken  his  luggage  from  the  train. 

"No;  here  he  is,"  replied  he,  pointing  to  a  tall,  powerful 
young  fellow,  whose  tweed  suit  and  billycock  hat  could  not 
completely  conceal  a  soldierlike  bearing  and  a  sort  of  com- 
pactness that  comes  of  "drill." 

"  That 's  my  name.  What  do  you  want  with  me?  "  cried 
he,  in  a  loud  but  pleasant  voice. 

"Only  that  Miss  Betty  has  sent  me  over  with  the  car  for 
your  honor,  if  it 's  plazing  to  you  to  drive  across." 

"What  about  this  broiled  bone.  Miller?"  asked  O'Shea. 
"I  rather  think  I  like  the  notion  better  than  when  you 
proposed  it." 

"I  suspect  you  do,"  said  the  other;  "but  we  '11  have  to 
step  over  to  the  '  Blue  Goat.'  It 's  only  a  few  yards  off, 
and  they  '11  be  ready;  for  I  telegraphed  them  from  town  to 
be  prepared  as  the  train  came  in." 

"You  seem  to  know  the  place  well." 

"Yes.  I  may  say  I  know  something  about  it.  I  can- 
vassed this  part  of  the  county  once  for  one  of  the  Idlers,  and 
I  secretly  determined  if  I  ever  thought  of  trying  for  a  seat 
in  the  House,  I  'd  make  the  attempt  here.  They  are  a  most 
pretentious  set  of  beggars,  these  small  townsfolk,  and  they  'd 
rather  hear  themselves  talk  politics,  and  give  their  notions 
of  what  they  think  '  good  for  Ireland,'  than  actually  pocket 


228  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

bank-notes;  and  that,  my  clear  friend,  is  a  virtue  in  a  con- 
stituency never  to  be  ignored  or  forgotten.     The  moment, 

then,  I  heard  of  M 's  retirement,  I  sent  off  a  confidential 

emissary  down  here  to  get  up  what  is  called  a  requisition, 
asking  me  to  stand  for  the  county.  Here  it  is,  and  the 
answer,  in  this  morning's  '  Freeman.'  You  can  read  it  at 
your  leisure.  Here  we  are  now  at  the  '  Blue  Goat ; '  and 
I  see  they  are  expecting  us." 

Not  only  was  there  a  capital  fire  in  the  grate,  and  the  table 
ready  laid  for  supper,  but  a  half-dozen  or  more  of  the 
notabilities  of  Moate  were  in  waiting  to  receive  the  new 
candidate,  and  confer  with  him  over  the  coming  contest. 

"My  companion  is  the  nephew  of  an  old  neighbor  of 
yours,  gentlemen,"  said  Miller,  —  "Captain  Gorman  O'Shea, 
of  the  Imperial  Lancers  of  Austria.  1  know  you  have  heard 
of,  if  you  have  not  seen  him." 

A  round  of  very  hearty  and  demonstrative  salutations 
followed,  and  Gorman  was  well  pleased  at  the  friendly 
reception  accorded  him. 

Austria  was  a  great  country,  one  of  the  company  observed. 
They  had  got  liberal  institutions  and  a  free  press,  and  they 
were  good  Catholics,  who  would  give  those  heretical  Prus- 
sians a  fine  lesson  one  of  these  days;  and  Gorman  O'Shea's 
health,  coupled  with  these  sentiments,  was  drank  with  all 
the  honors. 

"There  's  a  jolly  old  face  that  I  ought  to  remember  well," 
said  Gorman,  as  he  looked  up  at  the  portrait  of  Lord  Kil- 
gobbin  over  the  chimney.  "When  I  entered  the  service, 
and  came  back  here  on  leave,  he  gave  me  the  first  sword  I 
ever  wore,  and  treated  me  as  kindly  as  if  I  was  his  son." 

The  hearty  speech  elicited  no  response  from  the  hearers, 
who  only  exchanged  significant  looks  with  each  other;  while 
Miller,  apparently  less  under  restraint,  broke  in  with,  "That 
stupid  adventure  the  English  newspapers  called  '  The  gal- 
lant resistance  of  Kilgobbin  Castle '  has  lost  that  man  the 
esteem  of  Irishmen." 

A  perfect  burst  of  approval  followed  these  words;  and 
while  young  O'Shea  eagerly  pressed  for  an  explanation  of 
an  incident  of  which  he  heard  for  the  first  time,  they  one 
and  all  proceeded  to  give  their  versions  of  what  had  occurred; 


THE   MOATE  STATION.  229 

but  with  such  contradictions,  corrections,  and  emendations 
that  the  young  man  might  be  pardoned  if  he  comprehended 
little  of  the  event. 

"They  say  his  son  will  contest  the  county  with  you,  Mr. 
Miller,"  cried  one. 

"Let  me  have  no  weightier  rival,  and  I  ask  no  more." 

"Faix,  if  he  's  going  to  stand,"  said  another,  "his  father 
might  have  taken  the  trouble  to  ask  us  for  our  votes. 
Would  you  believe  it,  sir,  it 's  going  on  six  months  since  he 
put  his  foot  in  this  room?" 

"And  do  the  '  Goats  '  stand  that?  "  asked  Miller. 

"I  don't  wonder  he  does  n't  care  to  come  into  Moate. 
There  's  not  a  shop  in  the  town  he  does  n't  owe  money  to." 

"And  we  never  refused  him  credit  —  " 

"For  anything  but  his  principles,"  chimed  in  an  old 
fellow,  whose  oratory  was  heartily  relished. 

"He's  going  to  stand  in  the  national  interest,"  said  one. 

"That's  the  safe  ticket  when  you  have  no  money,"  said 
another. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Miller,  who  rose  to  his  legs  to  give 
greater  importance  to  his  address,  "if  we  want  to  make 
Ireland  a  country  to  live  in,  the  only  party  to  support  is  the 
Whig  Government!  The  nationalist  may  open  the  jails, 
give  license  to  the  press,  hunt  down  the  Orangemen,  and 
make  the  place  generally  too  hot  for  the  English.  But  are 
these  the  things  that  you  and  I  want  or  strive  for?  We  want 
order  and  quietness  in  the  land,  and  the  best  places  in  it  for 
ourselves  to  enjoy  these  blessings.  Is  Mr.  Casey  down 
there  satisfied  to  keep  the  post-office  in  Moate  when  he 
knows  he  could  be  the  first  secretary  in  Dublin,  at  the  head 
office,  with  two  thousand  a  year?  Will  my  friend  Mr. 
McGloin  say  that  he  'd  rather  pass  his  life  here  than  be  a 
Commissioner  of  Customs,  and  live  in  Merrion  Square? 
Ain't  we  men?  Ain't  we  fathers  and  husbands?  Have 
we  not  sons  to  advance  and  daughters  to  marry  in  the  world  ? 
and  how  much  will  nationalism  do  for  these? 

"I  will  not  tell  you  that  the  Whigs  love  us  or  have  any 
strong  regard  for  us ;  but  they  need  us,  gentlemen,  and  they 
know  well  that,  without  the  Radicals,  and  Scotland,  and 
our  party  here,  they  could  n't  keep  power  for  three  weeks. 


230  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

Now,  why  is  Scotland  a  great  and  prosperous  country?  I  '11 
tell  you.  Scotland  has  no  sentimental  politics.  Scotland 
says,  in  her  own  homely  adage,  '  Ca'  me  and  I'll  ca'  thee.* 
Scotland  insists  that  there  should  be  Scotchmen  everywhere, 
—  in  the  Post-Office,  in  the  Privy  Council,  in  the  Pipewater, 
and  in  the  Punjaub !  Does  Scotland  go  on  vaporing  about 
an  extinct  nationality  or  the  right  of  the  Stuarts?  Not  a 
bit  of  it.  She  says.  Burn  Scotch  coal  in  the  navy,  though 
the  smoke  may  blind  you  and  you  never  get  up  steam! 
She  has  no  national  absurdities ;  she  neither  asks  for  a  flag 
nor  a  Parliament.  She  demands  only  what  will  pay.  And 
it  is  by  supporting  the  Whigs,  you  will  make  Ireland  as 
prosperous  as  Scotland.  Literally,  the  Fenians,  gentlemen, 
will  never  make  my  friend  yonder  a  baronet,  nor  put  me  on 
the  Bench;  and  now  that  we  are  met  here  in  secret  com- 
mittee, I  can  say  all  this  to  you,  and  none  of  it  get  abroad. 
"Mind,  I  never  told  you  the  Whigs  love  us,  or  said  that 
we  love  the  Whigs ;  but  we  can  each  of  us  help  the  other. 
When  they  smash  the  Protestant  party,  they  are  doing  a 
fine  stroke  of  work  for  Liberalism  in  pulling  down  a  cruel 
ascendancy  and  righting  the  Romanists.  And  when  ive 
crush  the  Protestants,  we  are  opening  the  best  places  in  the 
land  to  ourselves  by  getting  rid  of  our  only  rivals.  Look 
at  the  Bench,  gentlemen,  and  the  high  offices  of  the  courts. 
Have  not  we  Papists,  as  they  call  us,  our  share  in  both? 
And  this  is  only  the  beginning,  let  me  tell  you.  There  is 
a  university  in  College  Green  due  to  us,  and  a  number  of 
fine  palaces  that  their  bishops  once  lived  in,  and  grand  old 
cathedrals  whose  very  names  show  the  rightful  ownership ; 
and  when  we  have  got  all  these,  —  as  the  W^higs  will  give 
them  one  day,  —  even  then  we  are  only  beginning.  And 
now  turn  the  other  side,  and  see  what  you  have  to  expect 
from  the  nationalists.  Some  very  hard  fighting  and  a  great 
number  of  broken  heads.  I  give  in  that  you  '11  drive  the 
English  out,  take  the  Pigeon  House  Fort,  capture  the 
Magazine,  and  carry  away  the  Lord  Lieutenant  in  chains. 
And  what  will  you  have  for  it,  after  all,  but  another  scrim- 
mage amongst  yourselves  for  the  spoils?  Mr.  Mullen,  of 
the  '  Pike, '  will  want  something  that  Mr.  Darby  McKeown 
of   the   '  Convicted   Felon  '    has   just    appropriated ;    Tom 


THE   MOATE   STATION.  231 

Casidy,  that  burned  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Orangemen, 
finds  that  he  is  not  to  be  pensioned  for  life ;  and  Phil  Cos- 
tigan,  that  blew  up  the  Lodge  in  the  Park,  discovers  that  he 
is  not  even  to  get  the  ruins  as  building  materials.  I  tell 
you,  my  friends,  it's  not  in  such  convulsions  as  these  that 
you  and  I,  and  other  sensible  men  like  us,  want  to  pass  our 
lives.  We  look  for  a  comfortable  berth  and  quarter-day ; 
that  *s  what  we  compound  for,  —  quarter-day,  —  and  I  give 
it  to  you  as  a  toast  with  all  the  honors." 

And  certainly  the  rich  volume  of  cheers  that  greeted  the 
sentiment  vouched  for  a  hearty  and  sincere  recognition  of 
the  toast. 

"The  chaise  is  ready  at  the  door.  Councillor,"  cried  the 
landlord,  addressing  Mr.  Miller;  and  after  a  friendly  shake- 
hands  all  round.  Miller  slipped  his  arm  through  O' Shea's 
and  drew  him  apart. 

"I  '11  be  back  this  way  in  about  ten  days  or  so,  and  I  '11 
ask  you  to  present  me  to  your  aunt.  She  has  got  above  a 
hundred  votes  on  her  property,  and  I  think  I  can  count 
upon  you  to  stand  by  me." 

"I  can,  perhaps,  promise  you  a  welcome  at  the  Barn," 
muttered  the  young  fellow,  in  some  confusion;  ''but  when 
you  have  seen  my  aunt,  you  '11  understand  why  I  give  you 
no  pledges  on  the  score  of  political  support." 

"Oh,  is  that  the  way?"  asked  Miller,  with  a  knowing 
laugh. 

"Yes,  that 's  the  way,  and  no  mistake  about  it,"  replied 
O'Shea;  and  they  parted. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

HOW   THE    "goats"    REVOLTED. 

In  less  than  a  week  after  the  events  last  related,  the  members 
of  the  "Goat  Club  "  were  summoned  to  an  extraordinary  and 
general  meeting,  by  an  invitation  from  the  vice-president, 
Mr.  McGloin,  the  chief  grocer  and  hardware-dealer  of  Kil- 
beggan.  The  terms  of  this  circular  seemed  to  indicate 
importance,  for  it  said,  "To  take  into  consideration  a 
matter  of  vital  interest  to  the  society." 

Though  only  the  denizen  of  a  very  humble  country  town, 
McGloin  possessed  certain  gifts  and  qualities  which  might 
have  graced  a  higher  station.  He  was  the  most  self- 
contained  and  secret  of  men ;  he  detected  mysterious  mean- 
ings in  every  —  the  smallest  —  event  of  life ;  and  as  he 
divulged  none  of  his  discoveries,  and  only  pointed  vaguely 
and  dimly  to  the  consequences,  he  got  credit  for  the  correct- 
ness of  his  unuttered  predictions  as  completely  as  though 
he  had  registered  his  prophecies  as  copyright  at  Stationers' 
Hall.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  on  every  question,  religious, 
social,  or  political,  he  was  the  paramount  authority  of  the 
town.  It  was  but  rarely,  indeed,  that  a  rebellious  spirit 
dared  to  set  up  an  opinion  in  opposition  to  his ;  but  if  such 
an  hazardous  event  were  to  occur,  he  would  suppress  it  with 
a  dignity  of  manner  which  derived  no  small  aid  from  the 
resources  of  a  mind  rich  in  historical  parallel ;  and  it  was 
really  curious  for  those  who  believe  that  history  is  always 
repeating  itself,  to  remark  how  frequently  John  McGloin 
represented  the  mind  and  character  of  Lycurgus,  and  how 
often  poor  old,  dreary,  and  bog-surrounded  Moate  recalled 
the  image  of  Sparta  and  its  "sunny  slopes." 

Now,  there  is  one  feature  of  Ireland  which  I  am  not  quite 
sure  is  very  generally  known  or  appreciated  on  the  other 


HOW  THE  "GOATS"  REVOLTED.  233 

side  of  St.  George's  Channel,  and  this  is  the  fierce  spirit 
of  indignation  called  up  in  a  county  habitually  quiet,  when 
the  newspapers  bring  it  to  public  notice  as  the  scene  of 
some  lawless  violence.  For  once  there  is  union  amongst 
Irishmen.  Every  class,  from  the  estated  proprietor  to  the 
humblest  peasant,  is  loud  in  asserting  that  the  story  is  an 
infamous  falsehood.  Magistrates,  priests,  agents,  middle- 
men, tax-gatherers,  and  tax-payers,  rush  into  print  to  abuse 
the  ''blackguard"  —  he  is  always  the  blackguard  —  who 
invented  the  lie ;  and  men  upwards  of  ninety  are  quoted  to 
show  that  so  long  as  they  could  remember,  there  never  was 
a  man  injured,  nor  a  rick  burned,  nor  a  heifer  hamstrung  in 
the  six  baronies  round!  Old  newspapers  are  adduced  to 
show  how  often  the  going  judge  of  assize  has  complimented 
the  grand  jury  on  the  catalogue  of  crime;  in  a  word,  the 
whole  population  is  ready  to  make  oath  that  the  county  is 
little  short  of  a  terrestrial  paradise,  and  that  it  is  a  district 
teeming  with  gentle  landlords,  pious  priests,  and  industrious 
peasants,  without  a  plague-spot  on  the  face  of  the  county 
except  it  be  the  police  barrack,  and  the  company  of  lazy 
vagabonds  with  cross-belts  and  carbines,  that  lounge  before 
it.  When,  therefore,  the  press  of  Dublin  at  first,  and  after- 
wards of  the  empire  at  large,  related  the  night  attack  for 
arms  at  Kilgobbin  Castle,  the  first  impulse  of  the  county  at 
large  was  to  rise  up  in  the  face  of  the  nation  and  deny  the 
slander!  Magistrates  consulted  together  whether  the  high- 
sheriff  should  not  convene  a  meeting  of  the  county.  Priests 
took  counsel  with  the  bishop,  whether  notice  should  not  be 
taken  of  the  calumny  from  the  altar.  The  small  shop- 
keepers of  the  small  towns,  assuming  that  their  trade  would 
be  impaired  by  these  rumors  of  disturbance,  —  just  as 
Parisians  used  to  declaim  against  barricades  in  the  streets, 
—  are  violent  in  denouncing  the  malignant  falsehoods  upon 
a  quiet  and  harmless  community;  so  that,  in  fact,  every 
rank  and  condition  vied  with  its  neighbor  in  declaring  that 
the  whole  story  was  a  base  tissue  of  lies,  and  which  could 
only  impose  upon  those  who  knew  nothing  of  the  county, 
nor  of  the  peaceful,  happy,  and  brother- like  creatures  who 
inhabited  it. 

It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that,  at  such  a  crisis,  Mr.  John 


234  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

McGloin  would  be  inactive  or  indifferent.  As  a  man  of 
considerable  influence  at  elections,  he  had  his  weight  with 
a  county  member,  Mr.  Price;  and  to  him  he  wrote,  demand- 
ing that  he  should  ask  in  the  House  what  correspondence 
had  passed  between  Mr.  Kearney  and  the  Castle  authorities 
with  reference  to  this  supposed  outrage,  and  whether  the  law 
officers  of  the  Crown,  or  the  adviser  of  the  Viceroy,  or  the 
chiefs  of  the  local  police,  or  —  to  quote  the  exact  words  — 
''  any  sane  or  respectable  man  in  the  county  "  believed  one 
word  of  the  story.  Lastly,  that  he  would  also  ask  whether 
any  and  what  correspondence  had  passed  between  Mr.  Kear- 
ney and  the  Chief  Secretary  with  respect  to  a  small  house 
on  the  Kilgobbin  property  which  Mr.  Kearney  had  suggested 
as  a  convenient  police-station,  and  for  which  he  asked  a 
rent  of  twenty-five  pounds  per  annum;  and  if  such  corre- 
spondence existed,  whether  it  had  any  or  what  relation  to 
the  rumored  attack  on  Kilgobbin  Castle? 

If  it  should  seem  strange  that  a  leading  member  of  the 
"  Goat  Club  "  should  assail  its  president,  the  explanation  is 
soon  made;  Mr.  McGloin  had  long  desired  to  be  the  chief 
himself.  He  and  many  others  had  seen,  with  some  irrita- 
tion and  displeasure,  the  growing  indifference  of  Mr.  Kear- 
ney for  the  "  Goats."  For  many  months  he  had  never  called 
them  together,  and  several  members  had  resigned,  and  many 
more  threatened  resignation.  It  was  time,  then,  that  some 
energetic  steps  should  be  taken.  The  opportunity  for  this 
was  highly  favorable.  Anything  unpatriotic,  anything  even 
unpopular  in  Kearney's  conduct,  would,  in  the  then  temper 
of  the  club,  be  sufficient  to  rouse  them  to  actual  rebellion; 
and  it  was  to  test  this  sentiment,  and,  if  necessary,  to  stim- 
ulate it,  Mr.  McGloin  convened  a  meeting  which  a  by-law 
of  the  society  enabled  him  to  do  at  any  period  when,  for  the 
three  preceding  months,  the  president  had  not  assembled 
the  club. 

Though  the  members  generally  were  not  a  little  proud  of 
their  president,  and  deemed  it  considerable  glory  to  them 
to  have  a  viscount  for  their  chief,  and  though  it  gave  great , 
dignity  to  their  debates  that  the  rising  speaker  should  begin 
"My  Lord  and  Buck  Goat,"  yet  they  were  not  without 
dissatisfaction  at   seeing  how  cavalierlv  he  treated   them, 


HOW  THE   "  GOATS''  REVOLTED.  235 

what  slight  value  he  appeared  to  attach  to  their  companion- 
ship, and  how  perfectly  indifferent  he  seemed  to  their 
opinions,  their  wishes,  or  their  wants. 

There  were  various  theories  in  circulation  to  explain  this 
change  of  temper  in  their  chief.  Some  ascribed  it  to 
young  Kearney,  who  was  a  "stuck-up"  young  fellow,  and 
wanted  his  father  to  give  himself  greater  airs  and  preten- 
sions. Others  opinioned  it  was  the  daughter,  who,  though 
she  played  Lady  Bountiful  among  the  poor  cottiers,  and 
affected  interest  in  the  people,  was  in  reality  the  proudest 
of  them  all.  And  last  of  all,  there  were  some  who,  in  open 
defiance  of  chronology,  attributed  the  change  to  a  post- 
dated event,  and  said  that  the  swells  from  the  Castle  were 
the  ruin  of  Mathew  Kearney,  and  that  he  was  never  the 
same  man  since  the  day  he  saw  them. 

Whether  any  of  these  were  the  true  solution  of  the  diffi- 
culty or  not,  Kearney's  popularity  was  on  the  decline  at  the 
moment  when  this  unfortunate  narrative  of  the  attack  on 
his  castle  aroused  the  whole  county  and  excited  their  feel- 
ings against  him.  Mr.  McGloin  took  every  step  of  his 
proceeding  with  due  measure  and  caution;  and  having 
secured  a  certain  number  of  promises  of  attendance  at  the 
meeting,  he  next  notified  to  his  Lordship,  how,  in  virtue  of 
a  certain  section  of  a  certain  law,  he  had  exercised  his 
right  of  calling  the  members  together;  and  that  he  now 
begged  respectfully  to  submit  to  the  chief,  that  some  of  the 
matters  which  would  be  submitted  to  the  collective  wisdom 
would  have  reference  to  the  "  Buck  Goat "  himself,  and  that 
it  would  be  an  act  of  great  courtesy  on  his  part  if  he  should 
condescend  to  be  present  and  afford  some  explanation. 

That  the  bare  possibility  of  being  called  to  account  by 
the  "Goats"  would  drive  Kearney  into  a  ferocious  passion, 
if  not  a  fit  of  the  gout,  McGloin  knew  well ;  and  that  the 
very  last  thing  on  his  mind  would  be  to  come  amongst  them, 
he  was  equally  sure  of :  so  that  in  giving  his  invitation  there 
was  no  risk  whatever.  Mathew  Kearney's  temper  was  no 
secret;  and  whenever  the  necessity  should  arise  that  a  burst 
of  indiscreet  anger  should  be  sufficient  to  injure  a  cause  or 
damage  a  situation,  "  the  Lord  "  could  be  calculated  on  with 
a  perfect  security.     McGloin  understood  this  thoroughly; 


236  LOKD  KILGOBBIN. 

nor  was  it  matter  of  surprise  to  him  that  a  verbal  reply  of 
"  There  is  no  answer  "  was  returned  to  his  note ;  while  the 
old  servant,  instead  of  stopping  the  ass-cart  as  usual  for  the 
weekly  supply  of  groceries  at  McGloin's,  repaired  to  a  small 
shop  over  the  way,  where  colonial  products  were  rudely 
jostled  out  of  their  proper  places  by  coils  of  rope,  sacks  of 
rapeseed,  glue,  glass,  and  leather,  amid  which  the  proprietor 
felt  far  more  at  home  than  amidst  mixed  pickles  and  mocha. 

Mr.  McGloin,  however,  had  counted  the  cost  of  his  policy; 
he  knew  well  that  for  the  ambition  to  succeed  his  Lordship 
as  chief  of  the  club,  he  should  have  to  pay  by  the  loss  of 
the  Kilgobbin  custom ;  and  whether  it  was  that  the  great- 
ness in  prospect  was  too  tempting  to  resist,  or  that  the 
sacrifice  was  smaller  than  it  might  have  seemed,  he  was 
prepared  to  risk  the  venture. 

The  meeting  was  in  so  far  a  success  that  it  was  fully 
attended.  Such  a  flock  of  "Goats  "  had  not  been  seen  by 
them  since  the  memory  of  man,  nor  was  the  unanimity  less 
remarkable  than  the  number;  and  every  paragraph  of  Mr. 
McGloin's  speech  was  hailed  with  vociferous  cheers  and 
applause,  the  sentiment  of  the  assembly  being  evidently 
highly  national,  and  the  feeling  that  the  shame  which  the 
Lord  of  Kilgobbin  had  brought  down  upon  their  county  was 
a  disgrace  that  attached  personally  to  each  man  there  pres- 
ent; and  that  if  now  their  once  happy  and  peaceful  district 
was  to  be  proclaimed  under  some  tyranny  of  English  law, 
or,  worse  still,  made  a  mark  for  the  insult  and  sarcasm  of 
the  "Times  "  newspaper,  they  owed  the  disaster  and  the 
shame  to  no  other  than  Mathew  Kearney  himself. 

"I  will  now  conclude  with  a  resolution,"  said  McGloin, 
who,  having  filled  the  measure  of  allegation,  proceeded  to 
the  application.  "I  shall  move  that  it  is  the  sentiment  of 
this  meeting  that  Lord  Kilgobbin  be  called  on  to  disavow, 
in  the  newspapers,  the  whole  narrative  which  has  been  circu- 
lated of  the  attack  on  his  house ;  that  he  declare  openly  that 
the  supposed  incident  was  a  mistake  caused  by  the  timorous 
fears  of  his  household,  during  his  own  absence  from  home ; 
terrors  aggravated  by  the  unwarrantable  anxiety  of  an  Eng- 
lish visitor,  whose  ignorance  of  Ireland  had  worked  upon  an 
excited  imagination ;  and  that  a  copy  of  the  resolution  be 


HOW  THE   "GOATS"  REVOLTED.  237 

presented  to  his  Lordship,  either  in  letter  or  by  a  deputa- 
tion, as  the  meeting  shall  decide." 

While  the  discussion  was  proceeding  as  to  the  mode  in 
which  this  bold  resolution  should  be  most  becomingly 
brought  under  Lord  Kilgobbin's  notice,  a  messenger  on 
horseback  arrived  with  a  letter  for  Mr.  McGloin.  The 
bearer  was  in  the  Kilgobbin  livery ;  and  a  massive  seal,  with 
the  noble  Lord's  arms,  attested  the  despatch  to  be  from 
himself. 

"Shall  I  put  the  resolution  to  the  vote,  or  read  this  letter 
first,  gentlemen?"  said  the  chairman. 

*'Read!  read!"  was  the  cry,  and  he  broke  the  seal.  It 
ran  thus :  — 

"Mr.  McGloin, — Will  you  please   to  inform  the  members  ofi 
the  '  Goat  Club '  at  Moate,  that  I  retire  from  the  presidency,  and  j 
cease  to  be  a  member  of  that  society  ?     I  was  vain  enough  to  be-  i 
lieve  at  one  time  that  the  humanizing  element  of  even  one  gentleman  I 
in  the  vulgar  circle  of  a  little  obscure  town  might  have  elevated  the  \ 
tone  of  manners  and  the  spirit  of  social  intercourse.     I  have  lived  to 
discover  my  great  mistake,  and  that  the  leadership  of  a  man  like 
yourself  is  far  more  likely  to  suit  the  instincts  and  chime  in  with 
the  sentiments  of  such  a  body. 

"  Your  obedient  and  faithful  servant, 

"  Kilgobbin." 

The  cry  which  followed  the  reading  of  this  document  can 
only  be  described  as  a  howl.  It  was  like  the  enraged  roar 
of  wild  animals,  rather  than  the  union  of  human  voices;  and 
it  was  not  till  after  a  considerable  interval  that  McGloin 
could  obtain  a  hearing.  He  spoke  with  great  vigor  and 
fluency.  He  denounced  the  letter  as  an  outrage  which 
should  be  proclaimed  from  one  end  of  Europe  to  the  other; 
that  it  was  not  their  town,  or  their  club,  or  themselves  had 
been  insulted,  but  Ireland!  that  this  mock  Lord  (cheers) 
this  sham  Viscount  (greater  cheers),  this  Brummagem 
peer,  whose  nobility  their  native  courtesy  and  natural 
urbanity  had  so  long  deigned  to  accept  as  real,  should  now 
be  taught  that  his  pretensions  only  existed  on  sufferance, 
and  had  no  claim  beyond  the  polite  condescension  of  men 
whom  it  was  no  stretch  of  imagination  to  call  the  equals  of 


238  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

Mathew  Kearney.  The  cries  that  received  this  were  almost 
deafening,  and  lasted  for  some  minutes. 

"  Send  the  ould  humbug  his  picture  there,"  cried  a  voice 
from  the  crowd,  and  the  sentiment  was  backed  by  a  roar  of 
voices ;  and  it  was  at  once  decreed  the  portrait  should 
accompany  the  letter  which  the  indignant  "Goats"  now 
commissioned  their  chairman  to  compose. 

That  same  evening  saw  the  gold-framed  picture  on  its  way 
to  Kilgobbin  Castle,  with  an  ample-looking  document,  whose 
contents  we  have  no  curiosity  to  transcribe,  —  nor,  indeed, 
is  the  whole  incident  one  which  we  should  have  cared  to 
obtrude  upon  our  readers,  save  as  a  feeble  illustration  of 
the  way  in  which  the  smaller  rills  of  public  opinion  swell 
the  great  streams  of  life,  and  how  the  little  events  of 
existence  serve  now  as  impulses,  now  obstacles  to  the  larger 
interests  that  sway  fortune.  So  long  as  Mathew  Kearney 
drank  his  punch  at  the  "Blue  Goat"  he  was  a  patriot  and 
a  nationalist ;  but  when  he  quarrelled  with  his  flock,  he 
renounced  his  Irishry,  and  came  out  a  Whig. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

AN   UNLOOKED-FOR    PLEASURE. 

When  Dick  Kearney  waited  on  Cecil  Walpole  at  his  quarters 
in  the  Castle,  he  was  somewhat  surprised  to  find  that  gentle- 
man more  reserved  in  manner,  and  in  general  more  distant, 
than  when  he  had  seen  him  as  his  father's  guest. 

Though  he  extended  two  fingers  of  his  hand  on  entering, 
and  begged  him  to  be  seated,  Walpole  did  not  take  a  chair 
himself,  but  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  —  the  showy 
skirts  of  a  very  gorgeous  dressing-gown  displayed  over  his 
arms,  —  where  he  looked  like  some  enormous  bird  exulting 
in  the  full  effulgence  of  his  bright  plumage. 

''  You  got  my  note,  Mr.  Kearney?  "  began  he,  almost 
before  the  other  had  sat  down,  with  the  air  of  a  man  whose 
time  was  too  precious  for  mere  politeness. 

"  It  is  the  reason  of  my  present  visit,"  said  Dick,  dryly. 

"  Just  so.  His  Excellency  instructed  me  to  ascertain  in 
what  shape  most  acceptable  to  your  family  he  might  show 
the  sense  entertained  by  the  Government  of  that  gallant 
defence  of  Kilgobbin ;  and  believing  that  the  best  way  to 
meet  a  man's  wishes  is  first  of  all  to  learn  what  the  wishes 
are,  I  wrote  you  the  few  lines  of  yesterday." 

'^  I  suspect  there  must  be  a  mistake  somewhere,"  began 
Kearney,  with  difficulty.  "At  least,  I  intimated  to  Atlee 
the  shape  in  which  the  Viceroy's  favor  would  be  most  agree- 
able to  us,  and  I  came  here  prepared  to  find  you  equally 
informed  on  the  matter." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  I  know  nothing,  —  positively  nothing. 
Atlee  telegraphed  me  :  '  See  Kearney,  and  hear  what  he  has 
to  say.  I  write  by  post.  —  Atlee.'  There's  the  whole 
of  it." 


240  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"And  the  letter  —  " 

"The  letter  is  there.  It  came  by  the  late  mail,  and  I 
have  not  opened  it." 

"Would  it  not  be  better  to  glance  over  it  now?"  said 
Dick,  mildly. 

"Not  if  you  can  give  me  the  substance  by  word  of 
mouth.  Time,  they  tell  us,  is  money ;  and  as  I  have  got 
very  little  of  either,  I  am  obliged  to  be  parsimonious.  What 
is  it  you  want?  I  mean  the  sort  of  thing  we  could  help  you 
to  obtain.  I  see,"  said  he,  smiling,  "you  had  rather  I 
should  read  Atlee's  letter.  Well,  here  goes."  He  broke 
the  envelope,  and  began  :  — 

"'My  dear  Mr.  Walpole,  —  I  hoped  by  this  time  to  have 
had  a  report  to  make  you  of  what  I  had  done,  heard,  seen,  and 
imagined  since  my  arrival,  and  yet  here  I  am  now  towards  the  close 
of  my  second  week,  and  I  have  nothing  to  tell ;  and  beyond  a  sort 
of  confused  sense  of  being  immensely  delighted  with  my  mode  of  life, 
I  am  totally  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time. 

"  '  His  Excellency  received  me  once  for  ten  minutes,  and  later  on, 
after  some  days,  for  half  an  hour;  for  he  is  confined  to  bed  with 
gout,  and  forbidden  by  his  doctor  all  mental  labor.  He  was  kind 
and  courteous  to  a  degree,  hoped  I  should  endeavor  to  make  myself 
at  home,  —  giving  orders  at  the  same  time  that  my  dinner  should  be 
served  at  my  own  hour,  and  the  stables  placed  at  my  disposal  for 
riding  or  driving.  For  occupation,  he  suggested  I  should  see  what 
the  newspapers  were  saying,  and  make  a  note  or  two  if  anything 
struck  me  as  remarkable. 

"'Lady  Maude  is  charming — and  I  use  the  epithet  in  all  the 
significance  of  its  sorcery.  She  conveys  to  me  each  morning  his 
Excellency's  instructions  for  my  day's  work ;  and  it  is  only  by  a 
mighty  effort  I  can  tear  myself  from  the  magic  thrill  of  her  voice, 
and  the  captivation  of  her  manner,  to  follow  what  I  have  to  reply  to, 
investigate,  and  remark  on. 

"  '  I  meet  her  each  day  at  luncheon,  and  she  says  she  will  join 
me  "  some  day  at  dinner."  When  that  glorious  occasion  arrives,  I 
shall  call  it  the  event  of  my  life,  for  her  mere  presence  stimulates  me 
to  such  effort  in  conversation  that  I  feel  in  the  very  lassitude  after- 
wards what  a  strain  my  faculties  have  undergone.'  " 

"What  an  insufferable  coxcomb,  and  an  idiot,  to  boot!" 
cried  Walpole.  "  I  could  not  do  him  a  more  spiteful  turn 
than  to  tell  my  cousin  of  her  conquest.     There  is  another 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  PLEASURE.        241 

page,  I  see,  of  the  same  sort.  But  here  you  are,  -»—  this  is  all 
about  you :  I  '11  read  it.  '  In  re  Kearney.  The  Irish  are 
always  logical ;  and  as  Miss  Kearney  once  shot  some  of  her 
countrymen,  when  on  a  mission  they  deemed  national,  her 
brother  opines  that  he  ought  to  represent  the  principles  thus 
involved  in  Parliament.'" 

"Is  this  the  way  in  which  he  states  my  claims!  "  broke 
in  Dick,  with  ill-suppressed  passion. 

"  Bear  in  mind,  Mr.  Kearney,  this  jest,  and  a  very  poor 
one  it  is,  was  meant  for  me  alone.  The  communication  is 
essentially  private,  and  it  is  only  through  my  indiscretion 
you  know  anything  of  it  whatever." 

' '  I  am  not  aware  that  any  confidence  should  entitle  him 
to  write  such  an  impertinence." 

"In  that  case  I  shall  read  no  more,"  said  Walpole,  as  he 
slowly  refolded  the  letter.  "The  fault  is  all  on  my  side, 
Mr.  Kearney,"  he  continued;  "but  I  own  I  thought  you 
knew  your  friend  so  thoroughly  that  extravagance  on  his 
part  could  have  neither  astonished  nor  provoked  you." 

"You  are  perfectly  right,  Mr.  Walpole;  I  apologize  for 
my  impatience.  It  was,  perhaps,  in  hearing  his  words  read 
aloud  by  another  that  I  forgot  myself,  and  if  you  will  kindly 
continue  the  reading,  I  will  promise  to  behave  more  suitably 
in  future." 

Walpole  re-opened  the  letter,  but,  whether  indisposed  to 
trust  the  pledge  thus  given  or  to  prolong  the  interview,  ran 
his  eyes  over  one  side  and  then  turned  to  the  last  page.  "  I 
see,"  said  he,  "  he  augurs  ill  as  to  your  chances  of  success  ;  he 
opines  that  you  have  not  well  calculated  the  great  cost  of  the 
venture,  and  that  in  all  probability  it  has  been  suggested  by 
some  friend  of  questionable  discretion.  'At  all  events,'" 
and  here  he  read  aloud,  —  "  'at  all  events,  his  Excellency 
says,  "  We  should  like  to  mark  the  Kilgobbin  affair  by  some 
show  of  approbation  ;  and  though  supporting  young  K.  in  a 
contest  for  his  county  is  a  '  higher  figure '  than  we  meant  to 
pay,  see  him,  and  hear  what  he  has  to  say  of  his  prospects,  — 
what  he  can  do  to  obtain  a  seat,  and  what  he  will  do  if 
he  gets  one.  We  need  not  caution  him  against'"  —  hum, 
hum,  hum ! "  muttered  he,  slurring  over  the  words,  and 
endeavoring  to  pass  on  to  something  else. 

16 


242  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

''  May  I  ask  against  what  I  am  supposed  to  be  so 
secure  ?  " 

"Oh,  nothiug,  nothing.  Avery  small  impertinence,  but 
which  Mr.  Atlee  found  irresistible." 

"  Pray  let  me  hear  it.     It  shall  not  irritate  me." 

"  He  says,  '  There  will  be  no  more  a  fear  of  bribery  in 
your  case  than  of  a  debauch  at  Father  Mathew's.'  " 

"He  is  right  there,"  said  Kearney,  with  great  temper. 
"  The  only  difference  is  that  our  forbearance  will  be  founded 
on  something  stronger  than  a  pledge." 

Walpole  looked  at  the  speaker,  and  was  evidently  struck 
by  the  calm  command  he  had  displayed  of  his  passion. 

"If  we  could  forget  Joe  Atlee  for  a  few  minutes,  Mr. 
Walpole,  we  might  possibly  gain  something.  I,  at  least, 
would  be  glad  to  know  how  far  I  might  count  on  the 
Government  aid  in  my  project." 

"Ah,  you  want  to  —  in  fact,  you  would  like  that  we 
should  give  you  something  like  a  regular  —  eh?  —  that  is 
to  say,  that  you  could  declare  to  certain  people  —  naturally 
enough,  I  admit;  but  here  is  how  we  are,  Kearney.  Of 
course  what  I  say  now  is  literally  between  ourselves,  and 
strictly  confidential." 

"  I  shall  so  understand  it,"  said  the  other,  gravely. 

"  Well,  now,  here  it  is.  The  Irish  vote,  as  the  Yankees 
would  call  it,  is  of  undoubted  value  to  us,  but  it  is  con- 
foundedly dear !  With  Paul  Cullen  on  one  side  and  Fenian- 
ism  on  the  other,  we  have  no  peace.  Time  was  when  you 
all  pulled  the  one  way,  and  a  sop  to  the  Pope  pleased  you 
all.  Now  that  will  suffice  no  longer.  The  '  Sovereign  Pon- 
tiff dodge  '  is  the  surest  of  all  ways  to  offend  the  nationals ; 
so  that,  in  reality,  what  we  want  in  the  House  is  a  number 
of  liberal  Irishmen  who  will  trust  the  Government  to  do  as 
much  for  the  Catholic  Church  as  English  bigotry  will  permit, 
and  as  much  for  the  Irish  peasant  as  will  not  endanger  the 
rights  of  property  over  the  Channel." 

"  There 's  a  wide  field  there,  certainly,"  said  Dick,  smiling. 

"  Is  there  not?"  cried  the  other,  exultingly.  "  Not  only 
does  it  bowl  over  the  Established  Church  and  Protestant 
ascendency,  but  it  inverts  the  position  of  landlord  and 
tenant.     To  unsettle  everything  in  Ireland,  so  that  anybody 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  PLEASURE.        243 

might  hope  to  be  anything,  or  to  own  heaven  knows  what, 

—  to  legalize  gambling  for  existence  to  a  people  who  delight 
in  high  play,  and  yet  not  involve  us  in  a  civil  war,  —  was 
a  grand  policy,  Kearney,  a  very  grand  policy.  Not  that  I 
expect  a  young,  ardent  spirit  like  yourself,  fresh  from  col- 
lege ambitions  and  high-flown  hopes,  will  take  this  view." 

Dick  only  smiled,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Just  so,"  resumed  Walpole.  "I  could  not  expect  you 
to  like  this  programme,  and  I  know  already  all  that  you 
allege  against  it;  but,  as  B.  says,  Kearney,  the  man  who 
rules  Ireland  must  know  how  to  take  command  of  a  ship  in 
a  state  of  mutiny,  and  yet  never  suppress  the  revolt.  There  's 
the  problem,  — as  much  discipline  as  you  can,  as  much  in- 
discipline as  you  can  bear.  The  brutal  old  Tories  used  to 
master  the  crew,  and  hang  the  ringleaders ;  and  for  that 
matter,  they  might  have  hanged  the  whole  ship's  company. 
We  know  better,  Kearney ;  and  we  have  so  confused  and 
addled  them  by  our  policy,  that,  if  a  fellow  were  to  strike 
his  captain,  he  would  never  be  quite  sure  whether  he  was  to 
be  strung  up  at  the  gangway  or  made  a  petty  officer.  Do 
you  see  it  now?" 

"  I  can  scarcely  say  that  I  do  see  it,  —  I  mean,  that  I  see 
it  as  you  do." 

"I  scarcely  could  hope  that  you  should,  or,  at  least,  that 
you  should  do  so  at  once  ;  but  now,  as  to  this  seat  for  King's 
County,  I  believe  we  have  already  found  our  man.  I  '11  not 
be  sure,  nor  will  I  ask  you  to  regard  the  matter  as  fixed  on, 
but  I  suspect  we  are  in  relations  —  you  know  what  I  mean 

—  with  an  old  supporter,  who  has  been  beaten  half  a  dozen 
times  in  our  interest,  but  is  coming  up  once  more.  I  '11 
ascertain  about  this  positively,  and  let  you  know.  And 
then,"  —  here  he  drew  breath  freely,  and  talked  more  at  ease, 

—  "if  we  should  find  our  hands  free,  and  that  we  see  our 
way  clearly  to  support  you,  what  assurance  could  you  give 
us  that  you  would  go  through  with  the  contest,  and  fight  the 
battle  out?" 

"  I  believe,  if  I  engage  in  the  struggle,  I  shall  continue  to 
the  end,"  said  Dick,  half  doggedly. 

"  Your  personal  pluck  and  determination  I  do  not  question 
for  a  moment.    Now,  let  us  see,"  —  here  he  seemed  to  rumi- 


244  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

nate  for  some  seconds,  and  looked  like  one  debating  a  matter 
with  himself.  "  Yes,"  cried  he,  at  last,  "  I  believe  that  will 
be  the  best  way.  I  am  sure  it  will.  When  do  you  go  back, 
Mr.  Kearney,  —  to  Kilgobbin,  I  mean  ?  " 

''  My  intention  was  to  go  down  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  That  will  be  Friday.  Let  us  see,  what  is  Friday? 
Friday  is  the  loth,  is  it  not?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Friday,"  muttered  the  other,  —  "  Friday?  There  's  the 
Education  Board,  and  the  Harbor  Commissioners,  and  some- 
thing else  at  —  to  be  sure,  a  visit  to  the  Popish  schools  with 
Dean  O'Mahony.  You  couldn't  make  it  Saturday,  could 
you?" 

"Not  conveniently.  I  had  already  arranged  a  plan  for 
Saturday.     But  why  should  I  delay  here,  —  to  what  end  ?  " 

"Only  that,  if  you  could  say  Saturday,  I  would  like  to 
go  down  with  you." 

From  the  mode  in  which  he  said*  these  words,  it  was  clear 
that  he  looked  for  an  almost  rapturous  acceptance  of  his 
gracious  proposal;  but  Dick  did  not  regard  the  project 
in  that  light,  nor  was  he  overjoyed  in  the  least  at  the 
proposal. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Walpole,  hastening  to  relieve  the  awk- 
wardness of  silence,  —  "I  mean  that  I  could  talk  over  this 
affair  with  your  father  in  a  practical  business  fashion,  that 
you  could  scarcely  enter  into.  Still,  if  Saturday  could  not 
be  managed,  I'll  try  if  I  could  not  run  down  with  you  on 
Friday.  Only  for  a  day,  remember.  I  must  return  by  the 
evening  train.     We  shall  arrive  by  what  hour?  " 

"  By  breakfast- time,"  said  Dick,  but  still  not  over- 
graciously. 

"Nothing  could  be  better;  that  will  give  us  a  long  day, 
and  I  should  like  a  full  discussion  with  your  father.  You  '11 
manage  to  send  me  on  to  —  what 's  the  name?  " 

"  Moate." 

"  Moate.  Yes  ;  that 's  the  place.  The  up-train  leaves  at 
midnight,  I  remember.  Now  that 's  all  settled.  You  '11  take 
me  up  then  here  on  Friday  morping,  Kearney,  on  your  way 
to  the  station,  and  meanwhile  I  '11  set  to  work,  and  put  off 
these  deputations  and  circulars  till  Saturday,  when,  I  remem- 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  PLEASURE.        245 

ber,  I  have  a  dinner  with  the  Provost.  Is  there  anything 
more  to  be  thought  of  ?  " 

"  I  believe  not,'*  muttered  Dick,  still  sullenly. 

*'By-by,  then,  till  Friday  morning,"  said  he,  as  he  turned 
towards  his  desk,  and  began  arranging  a  mass  of  papers 
before  him. 

"  Here's  a  jolly  mess  with  a  vengeance,"  muttered  Kear- 
ney, as  he  descended  the  stair.  "The  Viceroy's  private 
secretary  to  be  domesticated  with  a  '  Head-Centre  *  and  an 
escaped  convict.  There  's  not  even  the  doubtful  comfort 
of  being  able  to  make  my  family  assist  me  through  the 
difficulty." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

PLMNUDDM    CASTLE,    NORTH    WALES. 

Among  the  articles  of  that  wardrobe  of  Cecil  Walpole's  of 
which  Atlee  had  possessed  himself  so  unceremoniously, 
there  was  a  very  gorgeous  blue  dress-coat,  with  the  royal 
button  and  a  lining  of  sky-blue  silk,  which  formed  the 
appropriate  costume  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  viceregal 
household.  This,  with  a  waistcoat  to  match,  Atlee  had 
carried  off  with  him  in  the  indiscriminating  haste  of  a  last 
moment,  and  although  thoroughly  understanding  that  he 
could  not  avail  himself  of  a  costume  so  distinctively  the 
mark  of  a  condition,  yet,  by  one  of  the  contrarieties  of 
his  strange  nature,  in  which  the  desire  for  an  assumption 
of  any  kind  was  a  passion,  he  had  tried  on  that  coat 
fully  a  dozen  times,  and  while  admiring  how  well  it  became 
him,  and  how  perfectly  it  seemed  to  suit  his  face  and 
figure,  he  had  dramatized  to  himself  the  part  of  an  aide- 
de-camp  in  waiting,  rehearsing  the  little  speeches  in  which 
he  presented  this  or  that  imaginary  person  to  his  Excellency, 
and  coining  the  small  money  of  epigram  in  which  he  related 
the  news  of  the  day. 

"  How  I  should  cut  out  those  dreary  subalterns  with  their 
mess-room  drolleries,  how  I  should  shame  those  tiresome  cor- 
nets, whose  only  glitter  is  on  their  sabretaches !  "  muttered 
he,  as  he  surveyed  himself  in  his  courtly  attire.  "It  is  all 
nonsense  to  say  that  the  dress  a  man  wears  can  only  impress 
the  surrounders.  It  is  on  himself  —  on  his  own  nature  and 
temper,  his  mind,  his  faculties,  his  very  ambition  —  there  is 
a  transformation  effected  ;  and  I,  Joe  Atlee,  feel  myself,  as  I 
move  about  in  this  costume,  a  very  different  man  from  that 
humble  creature  in  gray  tweed,  whose  very  coat  reminds  him 
he  is  a  ^  cad,'  and  who  has  but  to  look  in  the  glass  to  read  his 
condition." 


PLMNUDDM  CASTLE,  NORTH  WALES.  247 

On  the  morning  that  he  learned  that  Lady  Maude  would 
join  him  that  day  at  dinner,  Atlee  conceived  the  idea  of 
appearmg  in  this  costume.  It  was  not  only  that  she  knew 
nothing  of  the  Irish  court  and  its  habits,  but  she  made  an 
almost  ostentatious  show  of  her  indifference  to  all  about  it ; 
and  in  the  few  questions  she  asked,  the  tone  of  interrogation 
might  have  suited  Africa  as  much  as  Ireland.  It  was  true, 
she  was  evidently  puzzled  to  know  what  place  or  condition 
Atlee  occupied  ;  his  name  was  not  familiar  to  her,  and  yet  he 
seemed  to  know  everything  and  everybody,  enjoyed  a  large 
share  of  his  Excellency's  confidence,  and  appeared  conversant 
with  every  detail  placed  before  him. 

That  she  would  not  directly  ask  him  what  place  he  occu- 
pied in  the  household  he  well  knew,  and  Le  felt  at  the 
same  time  what  a  standing  and  position  that  costume 
would  give  him,  what  self-confidence  and  ease  it  would 
also  confer,  and  how  for  once  in  his  life,  free  from  the 
necessity  of  asserting  a  station,  he  could  devote  all  his 
energies  to  the  exercise  of  agreeability  and  those  resources 
of  small-talk  in  which  he  knew  he  was  a  master. 

Besides  all  this,  it  was  to  be  his  last  day  at  the  Castle,  — 
he  was  to  start  the  next  morning  for  Constantinople,  with  all 
instructions  regarding  the  spy  Speridionides,  and  he  desired 
to  make  a  favorable  impression  on  Lady  Maude  before 
he  left.  Though  intensely,  even  absurdly  vain,  Atlee  was 
one  of  those  men  who  are  so  eager  for  success  in  life  that 
they  are  ever  on  the  watch  lest  any  weakness  of  disposition 
or  temper  should  serve  to  compromise  their  chances,  and  in 
this  way  he  was  led  to  distrust  what  he  would  in  his  puppyism 
have  liked  to  have  thought  a  favorable  effect  produced  by 
him  on  her  Ladyship.  She  was  intensely  cold  in  manner, 
and  yet  he  had  made  her  more  than  once  listen  to  him  with 
interest.  She  rarely  smiled,  and  he  had  made  her  actually 
laugh.  Her  apathy  appeared  complete,  and  yet  he  had  so 
piqued  her  curiosity  that  she  could  not  forbear  a  question. 

Acting  as  her  uncle's  secretary,  and  in  constant  commu- 
nication with  him,  it  was  her  affectation  to  imagine  herself  a 
political  character,  and  she  did  not  scruple  to  avow  the  hearty 
contempt  she  felt  for  the  usual  occupation  of  women's  lives. 
Atlee's  knowledge  therefore  actually  amazed  her ;   his  hardi- 


248  -       LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

hood,  which  Dever  forsook  hnn,  enabled  him  to  give  her  the 
most  positive  assurances  on  anything  he  spoke ;  and  as  he 
had  ah'eady  fathomed  the  chief  prejudices  of  his  Excellency, 
and  knew  exactly  where  and  to  what  his  political  wishes 
tended,  she  heard  nothing  from  her  uncle  but  expressions  of 
admiration  for  the  just  views,  the  clear  and  definite  ideas, 
and  the  consummate  skill  with  which  that  "young  fellow" 
distinguished  himself. 

"We  shall  have  him  in  the  House  one  of  these  days," 
he  would  say;  "and  I  am  much  mistaken  if  he  will  not 
make  a  remarkable  figure  there."  • 

When  Lady  Maude  sailed  proudly  into  the  library  before 
dinner,  Atlee  was  actually  stunned  by  amazement  at  her 
beauty.  Though  not  m  actual  evening  dress,  her  costume 
was  that  sort  of  demi-toilette  compromise  which  occasion- 
ally is  most  becoming ;  and  the  tasteful  lappet  of  Brussels 
lace,  which,  interwoven  with  her  hair,  fell  down  on  either 
side  so  as  to  frame  her  face,  softened  its  expression  to  a 
degree  of  loveliness  he  was  not  prepared  for. 

It  was  her  pleasure  —  her  caprice,  perhaps  —  to  be  on 
this  occasion  unusually  amiable  and  agreeable.  Except  by 
a  sort  of  quiet  dignity,  there  was  no  coldness,  and  she 
spoke  of  her  uncle's  health  and  hopes  just  as  she  might 
have  discussed  them  with  an  old  friend  of  the  house. 

When  the  butler  flung  wide  the  folding-doors  into  the 
dining-room  and  announced  dinner,  she  was  about  to  move 
on,  when  she  suddenly  stopped,  and  said,  with  a  faint  smile, 
"Will  you  give  me  your  arm?"  Very  simple  words,  and 
commonplace  too,  but  enough  to  throw  Atlee's  whole  nature 
into  a  convulsion  of  delight.  And  as  he  walked  at  her 
side  it  was  in  the  very  ecstasy  of  pride  and  exultation. 

Dinner  passed  off  with  the  decorous  solemnity  of  that 
meal,  at  which  the  most  emphatic  utterances  were  the  but- 
ler's "  Marcobrunner  "  or  "  Johannisberg."  The  guests,  in- 
deed, spoke  little,  and  the  strangeness  of  their  situation 
rather  disposed  to  thought  than  conversation. 

"You  are  going  to  Constantinople  to-morrow,  Mr. 
Atlee,  my  uncle  tells  me,"  said  she,  after  a  longer  silence 
than  usual. 

"Yes;    his  Excellency  has  charged  me  with  a  message^ 


PLMNUDDM   CASTLE,  NORTH   WALES.  249 

of  which  I  hope  to  acquit  myself  well,  though  I  own  to 
my  misgivings  about  it  now." 

"  You  are  too  diffident,  perhaps,  of  your  powers,"  said 
she ;  and  there  was  a  faint  curl  of  the  lip  that  made  the 
words  sound  equivocally. 

"I  do  not  know  if  great  modesty  be  amongst  my  fail- 
ings," said  he,  laughingly.     "My  friends  would  say  not." 

"  You  mean,  perhaps,  that  you  are  not  without  ambi- 
tions ?  " 

"That  is  true.  I  confess  to  very  bold  ones."  And  as 
he  spoke  he  stole  a  glance  towards  her ;  but  her  pale  face 
never  changed. 

"  I  wish,  before  you  had  gone,  that  you  had  settled  that 
stupid  muddle  about  the  attack  on  —  I  forget  the  place." 

"Kilgobbin?" 

"  Yes,  Kil-gobbin  —  horrid  name  !  —  for  the  Premier  still 
persists  in  thinking  there  was  something  in  it,  and  worry- 
ing my  uncle  for  explanations ;  and  as  somebody  is  to  ask 
something  when  Parliament  meets,  it  would  be  as  well  to 
have  a  letter  to  read  to  the  House." 

"In  what  sense,  pray?"    asked  Atlee,  mildly. 

"Disavowing  all;  stating  the  story  had  no  foundation: 
that  there  was  no  attack,  no  resistance,  no  member  of  the 
viceregal  household  present  at  any  time." 

"That  would  be  going  too  far;  for  then  we  should  next 
have  to  deny  Walpole's  broken  arm  and  his  long  confine- 
ment to  house." 

"  You  may  serve  coffee  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  Marcom," 
said  she,  dismissing  the  butler;  and  then,  as  he  left  the 
room,  "  And  you  tell  me  seriously  there  was  a  broken 
arm  in  this  case?" 

"I  can  hide  nothing  from  you,  though  I  have  taken  an 
oath  to  silence,"  said  he,  with  an  energy  that  seemed  to 
defy  repression.  "I  will  tell  you  everything,  though  it*s 
little  short  of  a  perjury,  only  premising  this  much,  that  I 
know  nothing  from  Walpole  himself." 

"With  this  much  of  preface,  he  went  on  to  describe  Wal- 
pole's visit  to  Kilgobbin  as  one  of  those  adventurous  ex- 
ploits which  young  Englishmen  fancy  they  have  a  sort  of 
right  to  perform  in  the  less  civilized  country.     "  He  ima- 


250  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

gined,  I  have  no  doubt,"  said  he,  "  that  he  was  studying  the 
condition  of  Ireland,  and  investigating  the  land  question, 
when  he  carried  on  a  fierce  flirtation  with  a  pretty  Irish 
girl." 

"And  there  was  a  flirtation?" 

"Yes,  but  nothing  more.  Nothing  really  serious  at  any 
time.  So  far  he  behaved  frankly  and  well,  for  even  at  the 
outset  of  the  affair  he  owned  to  —  a  what  shall  I  call  it? 
—  an  entanglement  was,  I  believe,  his  own  word,  —  an  en- 
tanglement in  England  —  "  , 

"Did  he  not  state  more  of  this  entanglement, — with 
whom  it  was,  or  how,  or  where  ? " 

"  I  should  think  not.  At  all  events,  they  who  told  me 
knew  nothing  of  these  details.  They  only  knew,  as  he 
said,  that  he  was  in  a  certain  sense  tied  up,  and  that  till 
fate  unbound  him  he  was  a  prisoner." 

"Poor  fellow!  it  was  hard." 

"So  he  said,  and  so  they  believed  him.  Not  that  I 
myself  believe  he  was  ever  seriously  in  love  with  the  Irish 
girl." 

"And  why  not?  " 

"I  may  be  wrong  in  my  reading  of  him;  but  my  impres- 
sion is  that  he  regards  marriage  as  one  of  those  solemn 
events  which  should  contribute  to  a  man's  worldly  fortune. 
Now,  an  Irish  connection  could  scarcely  be  the  road  to 
this." 

"What  an  ungallant  admission!  "  said  she,  with  a  smile. 
"I  hope  Mr.  Walpole  is  not  of  your  mind."  After  a  pause 
she  said,  "And  how  was  it  that  in  your  intimacy  he  told 
you  nothing  of  this  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  in  dissent. 

"  Not  even  of  the  '  entanglement '  ?  " 

"Not  even  of  that.  He  would  speak  freely  enough  of  his 
'  egregious  blunder, '  as  he  called  it,  in  quitting  his  career 
and  coming  to  Ireland ;  that  it  was  a  gross  mistake  for  any 
man  to  take  up  Irish  politics  as  a  line  in  life;  that  they  were 
puzzles  in  the  present  and  led  to  nothing  in  the  future,  and, 
in  fact,  that  he  wished  himself  back  again  in  Italy  every 
day  he  lived." 

"Was  there  any  '  entanglement '  there  also?" 


PLMNUDDM  CASTLE,  NORTH  WALES.  251 

*'I  cannot  say.     On  these  he  made  me  no  confidences." 
.    "Coffee,    my   Lady!"  said   the   butler,  entering  at  this 
moment.     Nor  was  Atlee  grieved  at  the  interruption. 

"I  am  enough  of  a  Turk,"  said  she,  laughingly,  ''to  like 
that  muddy,  strong  coffee  they  give  you  in  the  East,  and 
where  the  very  smallness  of  the  cups  suggests  its  strength. 
You,  I  know,  are  impatient  for  your  cigarette,  Mr.  Atlee, 
and  I  am  about  to  liberate  you."  While  Atlee  was  mutter- 
ing his  assurances  of  how  much  he  prized  her  presence,  she 
broke  in:  "Besides,  I  promised  my  uncle  a  visit  before  tea- 
time;  and  as  I  shall  not  see  you  again,  I  will  wish  you 
now  a  pleasant  journey  and  a  safe  return." 

"Wish  me  success  in  my  expedition,"  said  he,  eagerly. 

"Yes,  I  will  wish  that  also.  One  word  more.  I  am  very 
short-sighted,  as  you  may  see,  but  you  wear  a  ring  of 
great  beauty.     May  I  look  at  it?  " 

"It  is  pretty,  certainly.  It  was  a  present  Walpole  made 
me.  I  am  not  sure  that  there  is  not  a  story  attached  to  it, 
though  I  don't  know  it." 

"Perhaps  it  may  be  linked  with  the  '  entanglement,'  "  said 
she,  laughing  softly. 

"For  aught  I  know,  so  it  may.     Do  you  admire  it?  " 

"Immensely,"  said  she,  as  she  held  it  to  the  light. 

"You  can  add  immensely  to  its  value  if  you  will,"  said 
he,  diffidently. 

"In  what  way?" 

"By  keeping  it.  Lady  Maude,"  said  he;  and  for  once  his 
cheek  colored  with  the  shame  of  his  own  boldness. 

"May  I  purchase  it  with  one  of  my  own?  Will  you  have 
this,  or  this  ?  "  said  she,  hurriedly. 

"Anything  that  once  was  yours,"  said  he,  in  a  mere 
whisper. 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Atlee." 

And  he  was  alone! 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 


AT    TEA-TIME. 


The  family  at  Kilgobbin  Castle  were  seated  at  tea  when 
Dick  Kearney's  telegram  arrived.  It  bore  the  address, 
"Lord  Kilgobbin,"  and  ran  thus;  "Walpole  wishes  to  speak 
with  you,  and  will  come  down  with  me  on  Friday;  his  stay 
cannot  be  beyond  one  day.  —  Richard  Kearney.  " 

"  What  can  he  want  with  me  ? "  cried  Kearney,  as  he 
tossed  over  the  despatch  to  his  daughter.  "If  he  wants  to 
talk  over  the  election,  I  could  tell  him  per  post  that  I  think 
it  a  folly  and  an  absurdity.  Indeed,  if  he  is  not  coming  to 
propose  for  either  my  niece  or  my  daughter,  he  might  spare 
himself  the  journey." 

"Who  is  to  say  that  such  is  not  his  intention,  papa?" 
said  Kate,  merrily.  "Old  Catty  had  a  dream  about  a  pie- 
bald horse  and  a  haystack  on  fire,  and  something  about  a 
creel  of  duck  eggs;  and  I  trust  that  every  educated  person 
knows  what  they  mean." 

"I  do  not,"  cried  Nina,  boldly. 

"Marriage,  my  dear.  One  is  marriage  by  special  license, 
with  a  bishop  or  a  dean  to  tie  the  knot ;  another  is  a  run- 
away match.     I  forget  what  the  eggs  signify." 

"An  unbroken  engagement,"  interposed  Donogan,  gravely, 
"so  long  as  none  of  them  are  smashed." 

"On  the  whole,  then,  it  is  very  promising  tidings," 
said  Kate. 

"It  may  be  easy  to  be  more  promising  than  the  election," 
said  the  old  man. 

"I  'm  not  flattered,  uncle,  to  hear  that  I  am  easier  to  win 
than  a  seat  in  Parliament." 

"That  does  not  imply  you  are  not  worth  a  great  deal 
more,"  said  Kearney,  with  an  air  of  gallantry.     "I  know 


AT  TEA-TIME.  253 

if  I  was  a  young  fellow  which  I  'd  strive  most  for.  Eh,  Mr. 
Daniel?     I  3ee  you  agree  with  me." 

Donogan's  face,  slightly  flushed  before,  became  now 
crimson  as  he  sipped  his  tea  in  confusion,  unable  to  utter 
a  word. 

"And  so,"  resumed  Kearney,  "he  '11  only  give  us  a  day  to 
make  up  our  minds!  It 's  lucky,  girls,  that  you  have  the 
telegram  there  to  tell  you  what's  coming." 

"  It  would  have  been  more  piquant,  papa,  if  he  had  made 
his  message  say,  '  I  propose  for  Nina.     Reply  by  wire. '  " 

"Or,  '  May  I  marry  your  daughter? '  "  chimed  in  Nina, 
quickly. 

"There  it  is,  now,"  broke  in  Kearney,  laughing,  "you're 
fighting  for  him  already !  Take  my  word  for  it,  Mr.  Daniel, 
there  's  no  so  sure  way  to  get  a  girl  for  a  wife,  as  to  make 
her  believe  there  's  another  only  waiting  to  be  asked.  It 's 
the  threat  of  the  opposition  coach  on  the  road  keeps  down 
the  fares." 

"Papa  is  all  wrong,"  said  Kate.  "There  is  no  such  con- 
ceivable pleasure  as  saying  No  to  a  man  that  another 
woman  is  ready  to  accept.  It  is  about  the  most  refined  sort 
of  self-flattery  imaginable."  • 

"  Not  to  say  that  men  are  utterly  ignorant  of  that  free- 
masonry among  women  which  gives  us  all  an  interest  in  thfe 
man  who  marries  one  of  us,"  said  Nina.  "It  is  only  your 
confirmed  old  bachelor  that  we  all  agree  in  detesting." 

"Faith,  I  give  you  up  altogether.  You  're  a  puzzle  clean 
beyond  me,"  said  Kearney,  with  a  sigh. 

"I  think  it  is  Balzac  tells  us,"  said  Donogan,  "that 
women  and  politics  are  the  only  two  exciting  pursuits  in 
life;  for  you  never  can  tell  where  either  of  them  will  lead 
you." 

"And  who  is  Balzac?"  asked  Kearney. 

"Oh,  uncle,  don't  let  me  hear  you  ask  who  is  the  greatest 
novelist  that  ever  lived." 

"Faith,  my  dear,  except  'Tristram  Shandy'  and  'Tom 
Jones, '  and  maybe  '  Robinson  Crusoe, '  —  if  that  be  a  novel, 
—  my  experience  goes  a  short  way.  When  I  am  not  read- 
ing what's  useful,  —  as  in  the  'Farmer's  Chronicle'  or 
'  Purcell's  Rotation  of  Crops,'  —  I  like  the  '  Accidents  '  In 


254  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

the  newspapers,  where  they  give  you  the  name  of  the  gentle* 
man  that  was  smashed  in  the  train,  and  tell  you  how  his 
wife  was  within  ten  days  of  her  third  confinement ;  how  it 
was  only  last  week  he  got  a  step  as  a  clerk  in  Somerset 
House.  Haven't  you  more  materials  for  a  sensation  novel 
there  than  any  of  your  three-volume  fellows  will  give 
you?" 

"The  times  we  are  living  in  give  most  of  us  excitement 
enough,"  said  Donogan.  "The  man  who  wants  to  gamble 
for  life  itself  need  not  be  balked  now." 

"You  mean  that  a  man  can  take  a  shot  at  an  emperor?  " 
said  Kearney,  inquiringly. 

"No,  not  that  exactly;  though  there  are  stakes  of  that 
kind  some  men  would  not  shrink  from.  What  are  called 
'  arms  of  precision  '  have  had  a  great  influence  on  modern 
politics.  When  there  's  no  time  for  a  plebiscite,  there  's 
always  time  for  a  pistol." 

"Bad  morality,  Mr.  Daniel,"  said  Kearney,  gravely. 

"I  suspect  we  do  not  fairly  measure  what  Mr.  Daniel 
says,"  broke  in  Kate.  "He  may  mean  to  indicate  a  revolu- 
tion, and  not  justify  it." 

"I  mean  both!  "  said  Donogan.  "I  mean  that  the  mere 
permission  to  live  under  a  bad  government  is  too  high  a 
price  to  pay  for  life  at  all.  I  'd  rather  go  '  down  into  the 
streets, '  as  they  call  it,  and  have  it  out,  than  I  'd  drudge  on, 
dogged  by  policemen,  and  sent  to  jail  on  suspicion." 

"He  is  right,"  cried  Nina.  "If  I  were  a  man,  I  'd  think 
as  he  does." 

"Then  I  'm  very  glad  you  're  not,"  said  Kearney; 
"though,  for  the  matter  of  rebellion,  I  believe  you  would 
be  a  more  dangerous  Fenian  as  you  are.  Am  I  right,  Mr. 
Daniel?" 

"I  am  disposed  to  say  you  are,  sir,"  was  his  mild  reply. 

"Ain't  we  important  people  this  evening!"  cried  Kear- 
ney, as  the  servant  entered  with  another  telegram.  "  This 
is  for  you,  Mr.  Daniel.  I  hope  we  're  to  hear  that  the 
Cabinet  wants  you  in  Downing  Street." 

"I  'd  rather  it  did  not,"  said  he,  with  a  very  peculiar 
smile,  which  did  not  escape  Kate's  keen  glance  across  the 
table,  as  he  said,  "May  I  read  my  despatch?" 


AT  TEA-TIME.  255 

"By  all  means,"  said  Kearney;  while,  to  leave  him  more 
undisturbed,  he  turned  to  Nina,  with  some  quizzical  remark 
about  her  turn  for  the  telegraph  coming  next.  "What  news 
would  you  wish  it  should  bring  you,  Nina?  "  asked  he. 

"I  scarcely  know.  I  have  so  many  things  to  wish  for,  I 
should  be  puzzled  which  to  place  first." 

"Should  you  like  to  be  Queen  of  Greece?"  asked  Kate. 

"First  tell  me  if  there  is  to  be  a  King,  and  who  is  he?" 

"Maybe  it 's  Mr.  Daniel,  there;  for  I  see  he  has  gone  off 
in  a  great  hurry  to  say  he  accepts  the  crown." 

"What  should  you  ask  for,  Kate,"  cried  Nina,  "if  for 
tune  were  civil  enough  to  give  you  a  chance  ?  " 

"Two  days'  rain  for  my  turnips,"  said  Kate,  quickly. 
"I  don't  remember  wishing  for  anything  so  much  in  all  my 
life." 

"Your  turnips!  "  cried  Nina,  contemptuously. 

"Why  not?  If  you  were  a  queen,  would  you  not  have  to 
think  of  those  who  depended  on  you  for  support  and  protec- 
tion? And  how  should  I  forget  my  poor  heifers  and  my 
calves,  —  calves  of  very  tender  years  some  of  them,  —  and 
all  with  as  great  desire  to  fatten  themselves  as  any  of  us 
have  to  do  what  will  as  probably  lead  to  our  destruction  ?  " 

"You  're  not  going  to  have  the  rain,  anyhow,"  said  Kear- 
ney; "and  you'll  not  be  sorry,  Nina,  for  you  wanted  a 
fine  day  to  finish  your  sketch  of  Croghan  Castle." 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  has  old  Bob  recovered  from  his  lame- 
ness yet,  to  be  fit  to  be  driven  ?  " 

"Ask  Kitty  there;  she  can  tell  you,  perhaps." 

"Well,  I  don't  think  I  'd  harness  him  yet.  The  smith 
has  pinched  him  in  the  off  fore-foot,  and  he  goes  tender 
still." 

"So  do  I  when  I  go  afoot,  for  I  hate  it,"  cried  Nina; 
"and  I  want  a  day  in  the  open  air,  and  I  want  to  finish  my 
old  Castle  of  Croghan.  And  last  of  all,"  whispered  she  in 
Kate's  ear,  "I  want  to  show  my  distinguished  friend  Mr. 
Walpole  that  the  prospect  of  a  visit  from  him  does  not  in- 
duce me  to  keep  the  house.  So  that,  from  all  the  wants  put 
together,  I  shall  take  an  early  breakfast,  and  start  to- 
morrow for  Cruhan,  —  is  not  that  the  name  of  the  little 
village  in  the  bog  ?  " 


256  LORD  KILGOBBIK 

"That 's  Miss  Betty's  own  townland ;  though  I  don't  know 
she  's  much  the  richer  of  her  tenants,"  said  Kearney,  laugh- 
ing.    "The  oldest  inhabitants  never  remember  a  rent-day/' 

"What  a  happy  set  of  people! " 

"Just  the  reverse.  You  never  saw  misery  till  you  saw 
them.  There  is  not  a  cabin  fit  for  a  human  being,  nor  is 
there  one  creature  in  the  place  with  enough  rags  to  cover 
him." 

"They  were  very  civil  as  I  drove  through.  I  remember 
how  a  little  basket  had  fallen  out,  and  a  girl  followed  me 
ten  miles  of  the  road  to  restore  it,"  said  Nina. 

"That  they  would;  and  if  it  were  a  purse  of  gold  they  'd 
have  done  the  same,"  cried  Kate. 

"Won't  you  say  that  they  'd  shoot  you  for  half-a-crown, 
though  ?  "  said  Kearney,  "  and  that  the  worst  '  Whiteboys  * 
of  Ireland  come  out  of  the  same  village?  " 

"I  do  like  a  people  so  unlike  all  the  rest  of  the  world," 
cried  Nina;  "whose  motives  none  can  guess  at,  none  fore- 
cast.    I'll  go  there  to-morrow." 

These  words  were  said  as  Daniel  had  just  re-entered  the 
room,  and  he  stopped  and  asked,  "  Where  to  ?  " 

"To  a  Whiteboy  village  called  Cruhan,  some  ten  miles 
off,  close  to  an  old  castle  I  have  been  sketching." 

"Do  you  mean  to  go  there  to-morrow?"  asked  he,  half 
carelessly ;  but,  not  waiting  for  her  answer,  and  as  if  fully 
preoccupied,  he  turned  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

A  DRIVE  AT  SUNRISE. 

The  little  basket-carriage  in  which  Nina  made  her  excur- 
sions, and  which  courtesy  called  a  phaeton,  would  scarcely 
have  been  taken  as  a  model  at  Long  Acre.  A  massive  old 
wicker-cradle  constituted  the  body,  which,  from  a  slight  in- 
equality in  the  wheels,  had  got  an  uncomfortable  "lurch  to 
port,"  while  the  rumble  was  supplied  by  a  narrow  shelf,  on 
which  her  foot-page  sat  dos-a-dos  to  herself,  —  a  position 
not  rendered  more  dignified  by  his  invariable  habit  of  play- 
ing pitch-and-toss  with  himself,  as  a  means  of  distraction 
in  travel. 

Except  Bob,  the  sturdy  little  pony  in  the  shafts,  nothing 
oould  be  less  schooled  or  disciplined  than  Larry  himself. 
At  sight  of  a  party  at  marbles  or  hop-scotch,  he  was  sure  to 
desert  his  post,  trusting  to  short  cuts  and  speed  to  catch  up 
his  mistress  later  on. 

As  for  Bob,  a  tuft  of  clover  or  fresh  grass  on  the  road- 
side were  temptations  to  the  full  as  great  to  him,  and  no 
amount  of  whipping  could  induce  him  to  continue  his  road 
leaving  these  dainties  untasted.  As  in  Mr.  Gill's  time  he 
had  carried  that  important  personage,  he  had  contracted  the 
habit  of  stopping  at  every  cabin  by  the  way,  giving  to  each 
halt  the  amount  of  time  he  believed  the  colloquy  should 
have  occupied,  and  then,  without  any  admonition,  resuming 
his  journey.  In  fact,  as  an  index  to  the  refractory  tenants 
on  the  estate,  his  mode  of  progression  with  its  interruptions 
might  have  been  employed,  and  the  sturdy  fashion  in  which 
he  would  "  draw  up  "  at  certain  doors  might  be  taken  as  the 
forerunner  of  an  ejectment. 

The  blessed  change  by  which  the  county  saw  the  beast  now 
driven  by  a  beautiful  young  lady,  instead  of  bestrode  by  an 

17 


258  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

inimical  bailiff,  added  to  a  popularity  which  Ireland  in  her 
poorest  and  darkest  hour  always  accords  to  beauty;  and 
they,  indeed,  who  trace  points  of  resemblance  between  two 
distant  peoples,  have  not  failed  to  remark  that  the  Irish, 
like  the  Italians,  invariably  refer  all  female  loveliness  to 
that  type  of  surpassing  excellence,  the  Madonna. 

Nina  had  too  much  of  the  South  in  her  blood  not  to  like 
the  heartfelt,  outspoken  admiration  which  greeted  her  as  she 
went;  and  the  "God  bless  you,  but  you  are  a  lovely  cray- 
ture !  "  delighted,  while  it  amused  her  in  the  way  the  quali- 
fication was  expressed. 

It  was  soon  after  sunrise  on  this  Friday  morning  that  she 
drove  down  the  approach,  and  made  her  way  across  the  bog 
towards  Cruhan.  Though  pretending  to  her  uncle  to  be  only 
eager  to  finish  her  sketch  of  Croghan  Castle,  her  journey 
was  really  prompted  by  very  different  considerations.  By 
Dick's  telegram  she  learned  that  Walpole  was  to  arrive  that 
day  at  Kilgobbin ;  and  as  his  stay  could  not  be  prolonged 
beyond  the  evening,  she  secretly  determined  she  would 
absent  herself  so  much  as  she  could  from  home,  —  only 
returning  to  a  late  dinner,  —  and  thus  show  her  distin- 
guished friend  how  cheaply  she  held  the  occasion  of  his 
visit,  and  what  value  she  attached  to  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
him  at  the  castle. 

She  knew  Walpole  thoroughly ;  she  understood  the  work- 
ing of  such  a  nature  to  perfection,  and  she  could  calculate 
to  a  nicety  the  mortification,  and  even  anger,  such  a  man 
would  experience  at  being  thus  slighted.  "These  men," 
thought  she,  "only  feel  for  what  is  done  to  them  before 
the  world ;  it  is  the  insult  that  is  passed  upon  them  in  pub- 
lic, the  soufflet  that  is  given  in  the  street,  that  alone  can 
wound  them  to  the  quick. "  A  woman  may  grow  tired  of 
their  attentions,  become  capricious  and  change;  she  may 
be  piqued  by  jealousy,  or,  what  is  worse,  by  indifference; 
but,  while  she  makes  no  open  manifestation  of  these,  they 
can  be  borne.  The  really  insupportable  thing  is  that  a 
woman  should  be  able  to  exhibit  a  man  as  a  creature  that 
had  no  possible  concern  or  interest  for  her;  one  who  might 
come  or  go,  or  stay  on,  utterly  unregarded  or  uncared  for. 
To  have  played  this  game  during  the  long  hours  of  a  long 


A  DRIVE  AT  SUNRISE.  259 

day  was  a  burden  she  did  not  fancy  to  encounter;  whereas, 
to  fill  the  part  for  the  short  space  of  a  dinner,  and  an  hour 
or  so  in  the  drawing-room,  she  looked  forward  to  rather  as 
an  exciting  amusement. 

''He  has  had  a  day  to  throw  away,"  said  she  to  herself, 
"and  he  will  give  it  to  the  Greek  girl.  I  almost  hear  him 
as  he  says  it.  How  one  learns  to  know  these  men  in  every 
nook  and  crevice  of  their  natures,  and  how  by  never  relax- 
ing a  hold  on  the  one  clew  of  their  vanity,  one  can  trace 
every  emotion  of  their  lives !  " 

In  her  old  life  of  Rome  these  small  jealousies,  these  petty 
passions  of  spite,  defiance,  and  wounded  sensibility,  filled 
a  considerable  space  of  her  existence.  Her  position  in 
society,  dependent  as  she  was,  exposed  her  to  small  mortir 
fications,  —  the  cold  semi-contemptuous  notice  of  women 
who  saw  she  was  prettier  than  themselves,  and  the  half- 
swaggering  carelessness  of  the  men  who  felt  that  a  bit  of 
flirtation  with  the  Titian  girl  was  as  irresponsible  a  thing 
as  might  be. 

"But  here,"  thought  she,  "I  am  the  niece  of  a  man  of 
recognized  station ;  I  am  treated  in  his  family  with  a  more 
than  ordinary  deference  and  respect,  —  his  very  daughter 
would  cede  the  place  of  honor  to  me,  and  my  will  is  never 
questioned.  It  is  time  to  teach  this  pretentious  fine  gentle- 
man that  our  positions  are  not  what  they  once  were.  If  I 
were  a  man,  I  should  never  cease  till  I  had  fastened  a  quar- 
rel on  him;  and  being  a  woman,  I  could  give  my  love  to 
the  man  who  would  avenge  me.  Avenge  me  of  what?  a 
mere  slight,  a  mood  of  impertinent  forgetfulness,  —  nothing 
more;  as  if  anything  could  be  more  to  a  woman's  heart!  A 
downright  wrong  can  be  forgiven,  an  absolute  injury  par- 
doned, —  one  is  raised  to  self-esteem  by  such  an  act  of  for- 
giveness; but  there  is  no  elevation  in  submitting  patiently 
to  a  slight.  It  is  simply  the  confession  that  the  liberty 
taken  with  you  was  justifiable,  was  even  natural." 

These  were  the  sum  of  her  thoughts,  as  she  went,  ever 
recurring  to  the  point  how  Walpole  would  feel  offended  by 
her  absence,  and  how  such  a  mark  of  her  indifference  would 
pique  his  vanity,  even  to  insult. 

Then  she  pictured  to  her  mind  how  this  fine  gentleman 


260  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

would  feel  the  boredom  of  that  dreary  day.  True,  it  would 
be  but  a  day ;  but  these  men  were  not  tolerant  of  the  people 
who  made  time  pass  heavily  with  them,  and  they  revenged 
their  own  ennui  on  all  around  them.  How  he  would  snub 
the  old  man  for  the  son's  pretensions,  and  sneer  at  the 
young  man  for  his  disproportioned  ambition;  and,  last  of 
all,  how  he  would  mystify  poor  Kate,  till  she  never  knew 
whether  he  cared  to  fatten  calves  and  turkeys,  or  was  simply 
drawing  her  on  to  little  details,  which  he  was  to  dramatize 
one  day  in  an  after-dinner  story. 

She  thought  of  the  closed  pianoforte,  and  her  music  on 
the  top,  —  the  songs  he  loved  best ;  she  had  actually  left 
Mendelssohn  there  to  be  seen,  —  a  very  bait  to  awaken  his 
passion.  She  thought  she  actually  saw  the  fretful  impa- 
tience with  which  he  threw  the  music  aside  and  walked  to 
the  window  to  hide  his  anger. 

"This  excursion  of  Mademoiselle  Nina  was  then  a  sudden 
thought,  you  tell  me;  only  planned  last  night?  And  is 
the  country  considered  safe  enough  for  a  young  lady  to  go 
off  in  this  fashion?  Is  it  secure?  is  it  decent?  I  know  he 
will  ask,  'Is  it  decent?'  Kate  will  not  feel,  she  will  not 
see  the  impertinence  with  which  he  will  assure  her  that  she 
herself  may  be  privileged  to  do  these  things,  that  her 
*  Irishry  '  was  itself  a  safeguard ;  but  Dick  will  notice  the 
sneer.  Oh,  if  he  would  but  resent  it!  How  little  hope 
there  is  of  that!  These  young  Irishmen  get  so  overlaid  by 
the  English  in  early  life,  they  never  resist  their  dominance; 
they  accept  everything  in  a  sort  of  natural  submission.  I 
wonder  does  the  rebel  sentiment  make  them  any  bolder?" 

And  then  she  bethought  her  of  some  of  those  national 
songs  Mr.  Daniel  had  been  teaching  her,  and  which  seemed 
to  have  such  an  overwhelming  influence  over  his  passionate 
nature.  She  had  even  seen  the  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  twice 
he  could  not  speak  to  her  with  emotion.  What  a  triumph 
it  would  have  been  to  have  made  the  high-bred  Mr.  Walpole 
feel  in  this  wise!  Possibly,  at  the  moment,  the, vulgar 
Fenian  seemed  the  finer  fellow.  Scarcely  had  the  thought 
struck  her,  than  there,  about  fifty  yards  in  advance,  and 
walking  at  a  tremendous  pace,  was  the  very  man  himself. 

"Is  not  that  Mr.  Daniel,  Larry?"  asked  she,  quickly. 


A  DRIVE  AT  SUNRISE.  261 

But  Larry  had  already  struck  off  on  a  short  cut  across  the 
bog,  and  was  miles  away. 

Yes,  it  could  be  none  other  than  Mr.  Daniel.  The  coat 
thrown  back,  the  loose-stepping  stride,  and  the  occasional 
flourish  of  the  stick  as  he  went,  all  proclaimed  the  man. 
The  noise  of  the  wheels  on  the  hard  road  made  him  turn  his 
head ;  and  now,  seeing  who  it  was,  he  stood  uncovered  till 
she  drove  up  beside  him. 

"Who  would  have  thought  to  see  you  here  at  this  hour?  '* 
said  he,  saluting  her  with  deep  respect. 

"No  one  is  more  surprised  at  it  than  myself,"  said  she, 
laughing;  "but  I  have  a  partly  done  sketch  of  an  old  castle, 
and  I  thought  in  this  fine  autumn  weather  I  should  like  to 
throw  in  the  color.  And,  besides,  there  are  now  and  then 
with  me  unsocial  moments  when  I  fancy  I  like  to  be  alone. 
Do  you  know  what  these  are?  " 

"Do  I  know?  —  too  well." 

"These  motives,  then,  not  to  think  of  others,  led  me  to 
plan  this  excursion;  and  now  will  you  be  as  candid,  and  say 
what  is  your  project?  " 

"I  am  bound  for  a  little  village  called  Cruhan,  — a  very 
poor,  unenticing  spot ;  but  I  want  to  see  the  people  there, 
and  hear  what  they  say  of  these  rumors  of  new  laws  about 
the  land." 

"  And  can  they  tell  you  anything  that  would  be  likely  to 
Interest  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  their  very  mistakes  would  convey  their  hopes;  and 
hopes  have  come  to  mean  a  great  deal  in  Ireland." 

"  Our  roads  are  then  the  same.  I  am  on  my  way  to  Cro- 
ghan  Castle." 

"Croghan  is  but  a  mile  from  my  village  of  Cruhan," 
said  he. 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,  and  it  was  in  your  village  of  Cruhan, 
as  you  call  it,  I  meant  to  stable  my  pony  till  I  had  finished 
my  sketch ;  but  my  gentle  page,  Larry,  1  see,  has  deserted 
me,  I  don't  know  if  I  shall  find  him  again." 

"Will  you  let  me  be  your  groom  ?  I  shall  be  at  the  village 
almost  as  soon  as  yourself,  and  I'll  look  after  your  pony." 

"Do  you  think  you  could  manage  to  seat  yourself  on  that 
shelf  at  the  back  ?  " 


262  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"It  is  a  great  temptation  you  offer  me,  if  I  were  not 
ashamed  to  be  a  burden." 

'^Not  to  me,  certainly;  and  as  for  the  pony,  I  scarcely 
think  he'll  mind  it." 

"At  all  events  I  shall  walk  the  hills." 

''I  believe  there  are  none.  If  I  remember  aright  it  is  all 
through  a  level  bog." 

'^You   were  at   tea   last   night  when  a  certain   telegram 


came 


'*To  be  sure  I  was.  I  was  there,  too,  when  one  came  for 
you,  and  saw  you  leave  the  room  immediately  after." 

''In  evident  confusion?"  added  he,  smiling. 

"Yes,  I  should  say,  in  evident  confusion.  At  least, 
you  looked  like  one  who  had  got  some  very  unexpected 
tidings." 

"So  it  was.  There  is  the  message."  And  he  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  slip  of  paper,  with  the  words,  "Walpole  is 
coming  for  a  day.  Take  care  to  be  out  of  the  way  till  he 
is  gone." 

"Which  means  that  he  is  no  friend  of  yours." 

"He  is  neither  friend  nor  enemy.  I  never  saw  him;  but 
he  is  the  private  secretary,  and,  I  believe,  the  nephew  of 
the  Viceroy,  and  would  find  it  very  strange  company  to 
be  domiciled  with  a  rebel." 

"And  you  are  a  rebel?  " 

"At  your  service.  Mademoiselle  Kostalergi." 

"And  a  Fenian  and  Head-Centre?" 

"A  Fenian  and  a  Head-Centre." 

"And  probably  ought  to  be  in  prison?" 

"  I  have  been  already,  and  as  far  as  the  sentence  of  Eng- 
lish law  goes,  should  be  still  there." 

\  "How  delighted  I  am  to  know  that!  I  mean,  what  a 
thrilling  sensation  it  is  to  be  driving  along  with  a  man  so 
dangerous  that  the  whole  country  would  be  up  and  in  pur- 
suit of  him  at  a  mere  word." 

"  That  is  true.  I  believe  I  should  be  worth  some  hundred 
pounds  to  any  one  who  would  capture  me.  I  suspect  it  is 
the  only  way  I  could  turn  to  valuable  account." 

"What  if  I  were  to  drive  you  into  Moate  and  give  you 
up?" 


A  DRIVE   AT  SUNRISE.  263 


11^ 


'You  might.     1  '11  not  run  away." 

"  I  should  go  straight  to  the  Podesta,  or  whatever  he  is, 
and  say,  '  Here  is  the  notorious  Daniel  Donogan,  the  rebel 
you  are  all  afraid  of. '  " 

"How  came  you  by  my  name?  "  asked  he,  curtly. 

"By  accident.  I  overheard  Dick  telling  it  to  his  sister. 
It  dropped  from  him  unawares,  and  I  was  on  the  terrace  and 
caught  the  words." 

"I  am  in  your  hands  completely,"  said  he,  in  the  same 
calm  voice;  "but  I  repeat  my  words:  I  '11  not  run  away." 

"That  is,  because  you  trust  to  my  honor." 

"It  is  exactly  so,  —  because  I  trust  to  your  honor." 

"But  how  if  I  were  to  have  strong  convictions  in  opposi- 
tion to  all  you  were  doing, —  how  if  I  were  to  believe  that  all 
you  intended  was  a  gross  wrong  and  a  fearful  cruelty  ?  " 

"  Still  you  would  not  betray  me.  You  would  say,  '  This 
man  is  an  enthusiast;  he  imagines  scores  of  impossible 
things,  but,  at  least,  he  is  not  a  self-seeker,  —  a  fool,  pos- 
sibly, but  not  a  knave.     It  would  be  hard  to  hang  him.'  " 

"So  it  would.     I  have  just  thought  that.' 

"And  then  you  might  reason  thus:  '  How  will  it  serve 
the  other  cause  to  send  one  poor  wretch  to  the  scaffold  where 
there  are  so  many  just  as  deserving  of  it?  '  " 

"And  are  there  many?  " 

"I  should  say  close  on  two  millions  at  home  here,  and 
some  hundred  thousand  in  America." 

"And  if  you  be  as  strong  as  you  say,  what  craven  crea- 
tures you  must  be  not  to  assert  your  own  convictions !  " 

"So  we  are,  —  I  '11  not  deny  it,  —  craven  creatures;  but 
remember  this.  Mademoiselle,  we  are  not  all  like-minded. 
Some  of  us  would  be  satisfied  with  small  cpncessions,  some 
ask  for  more,  some  demand  all;  and  as  the  Government 
higgles  with  some,  and  hangs  the  others,  they  mystify  us 
all,  and  end  by  confounding  us." 

"That  is  to  say,  you  are  terrified." 

"Well,  if  you  like  that  word  better,  I  '11  not  quarrel 
about  it." 

"I  wonder  how  men  as  irresolute  ever  turn  to  rebellion. 
When  our  people  set  out  for  Crete,  they  went  in  another 
spirit  to  meet  the  enemy." 


264  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

''Don't  be  too  sure  of  that.  The  boldest  fellows  in  that 
exploit  were  the  liberated  felons.  They  fought  with  des- 
peration, for  they  had  left  the  hangman  behind." 

"How  dare  you  defame  a  great  people!"  cried  she, 
angrily. 

"I  was  with  them.  Mademoiselle.  I  saw  them  and  fought 
amongst  them ;  and  to  prove  it,  I  will  speak  modern  Greek 
with  you,  if  you  like  it." 

"Oh,  do!  "  said  she.  "Let  me  hear  those  noble  sounds 
again ;  though  I  shall  be  sadly  at  a  loss  to  answer  you.  I 
have  been  years  and  years  away  from  Athens." 

"I  know  that.  I  know  your  story  from  one  who  loved  to 
talk  of  you,  all  unworthy  as  he  was  of  such  a  theme." 

"And  who  was  this?" 

"  Atlee,  —  Joe  Atlee,  whom  you  saw  here  some  months 
ago." 

"I  remember  him,"  said  she,  thoughtfully. 

"He  was  here,  if  I  mistake  not,  with  that  other  friend  of 
yours  you  have  so  strangely  escaped  from  to-day." 

"Mr.  Walpole?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Walpole;  to  meet  whom  would  not  have 
Involved  yoii^  at  least,  in  any  contrariety." 

"Is  this  a  question,  sir?  Am  I  to  suppose  your  curiosity. 
asks  an  answer  here  ?  " 

'*  I  am  not  so  bold;  but  I  own  my  suspicions  have 
mastered  my  discretion,  and,  seeing  you  here  this  morning, 
I  did  think  you  did  not  care  to  meet  him." 

"Well,  sir,  you  were  right.  I  am  not  sure  that  mtj 
reasons  for  avoiding  him  were  exactly  as  strong  as  yours^ 
but  they  sufficed  for  me." 

There  was  something  so  like  reproof  in  the  way  these 
words  were  uttered  that  Donogan  had  not  courage  to  speak 
for  some  time  after.  At  last  he  said  :  "In  one  thing  your 
Greeks  have  an  immense  advantage  over  us  here.  In  your 
popular  songs  you  could  employ  your  own  language,  and 
deal  with  your  own  wrongs  in  the  accents  that  became  them. 
We  had  to  take  the  tongue  of  the  conqueror,  which  was  as 
little  suited  to  our  traditions  as  to  our  feelings,  and  traves- 
tied both.  Only  fancy  the  Greek  vaunting  his  triumphs  or 
bewailing  his  defeats  in  Turkish ! " 


A  DRIVE   AT  SUNRISE.  265 

''What  do  you  know  of  Mr.  "Walpole?"  asked  she, 
abruptly. 

"  Very  little  beyond  the  fact  that  he  is  an  agent  of  the 
Government,  who  believes  that  he  understands  the  Irish 
people." 

"  Which  you  are  disposed  to  doubt?  " 

"  I  only  know  that  I  am  an  Irishman,  and  I  do  not  under- 
stand them.  An  organ,  however,  is  not  less  an  organ  that 
it  has  many  '  stops.'  " 

'*  I  am  not  sure  Cecil  Walpole  does  not  read  you  aright. 
He  thinks  that  you  have  a  love  of  intrigue  and  plot,  but 
without  the  conspirator  element  that  Southern  people  possess  ; 
and  that  your  native  courage  grows  impatient  at  the  delays 
of  mere  knavery,  and  always  betrays  you." 

"  That  distinction  was  never  te,  —  that  was  your  own." 

*'  So  it  was ;  but  he  adopted  it  when  he  heard  it." 

*'That  is  the  way  the  rising  politician  is  educated,"  cried 
Donogan.  "It  is  out  of  these  petty  thefts  he  makes  all  his 
capital,  and  the  poor  people  never  suspect  how  small  a 
creature  can  be  their  millionnaire." 

''  Is  not  that  our  village  yonder,  where  I  see  the  smoke?  " 

*'  Yes;  and  there  on  the  stile  sits  your  little  groom  await- 
ing you.     I  shall  get  down  here." 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  sir.  It  is  by  your  blunder,  not  by 
your  presence,  that  you  might  compromise  me."  And  this 
time  her  voice  caught  a  tone  of  sharp  severity  that  sup- 
pressed reply. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


THE     EXCURSION. 


The  little  village  of  Cruhan-bawn,  into  which  they  now 
drove,  was,  in  every  detail  of  wretchedness,  dirt,  ruin,  and 
desolation,  intensely  Irish.  A  small  branch  of  the  well- 
known  bog-stream,  the  "  Brusna,"  divided  one  part  of  the 
village  from  the  other,  and  between  these  two  settlements 
so  separated  there  raged  a  most  rancorous  hatred  and 
jealousy,  and  Cruhan-beg,  as  the  smaller  collection  of  hovels 
was  called,  detested  Cruhan-bawn  with  an  intensity  of  dis- 
like that  might  have  sufficed  for  a  national  antipathy,  where 
race,  language,  and  traditions  had  contributed  their  aids 
to  the  animosity. 

There  was,  however,  one  real  and  valid  reason  for  this 
inveterate  jealousy.  The  inhabitants  of  Cruhan-beg  —  who 
lived,  as  they  said  themselves,  "beyond  the  river"  — 
strenuously  refused  to  pay  any  rent  for  their  hovels ;  while 
"the  cis-Brusnaites,"  as  they  may  be  termed,  demeaned 
themselves  to  the  condition  of  tenants  in  so  far  as  to  ac- 
knowledge the  obligation  of  rent,  though  the  oldest  inhabi- 
tant vowed  he  had  never  seen  a  receipt  in  his  life,  nor  had 
the  very  least  conception  of  a  gale-day. 

If,  therefore,  actually  there  was  not  much  to  separate 
them  on  the  score  of  principle,  they  were  widely  apart  in 
theory,  and  the  sturdy  denizens  of  the  smaller  village  looked 
down  upon  the  others  as  the  ignoble  slaves  of  a  Saxon 
tyranny.  The  village  in  its  entirety  —  for  the  division  was 
a  purely  local  and  arbitrary  one  —  belonged  to  Miss  Betty 
O'Shea,  forming  the  extreme  edge  of  her  estate  as  it  merged 
into  the  vast  bog ;  and,  with  the  habitual  fate  of  frontier 
populations,  it  contained  more  people  of  lawless  lives  and 


THE   EXCURSION.  267 

reckless  habits  than  were  to  be  found  for  miles  around. 
There  was  not  a  resource  of  her  ingenuity  she  had  not 
employed  for  years  back  to  bring  these  refractory  subjects 
into  the  pale  of  a  respectable  tenantry.  Every  process  of 
the  law  had  been  essayed  in  turn.  They  had  been  hunted 
down  by  the  police,  unroofed  and  turned  into  the  wide  bog ; 
their  chattels  had  been '' canted,"  and  themselves  —  a  last 
resource  —  cursed  from  the  altar;  but,  with  that  strange 
tenacity  that  pertains  to  life  where  there  is  little  to  live  for, 
these  creatures  survived  all  modes  of  persecution,  and  came 
back  into  their  ruined  hovels  to  defy  the  law  and  beard  the 
Church,  and  went  on  living  —  in  some  strange,  mysterious 
way  of  their  own  —  an  open  challenge  to  all  political  econ- 
omy, and  a  sore  puzzle  to  the  "Times"  commissioner 
when  he  came  to  report  on  the  condition  of  the  cottier  in 
Ireland. 

At  certain  seasons  of  county  excitement,  —  such  as  an 
election  or  an  unusually  weighty  assizes,  —  it  was  not  deemed 
perfectly  safe  to  visit  the  village,  and  even  the  police  would 
not  have  adventured  on  the  step  except  with  a  responsible 
force.  At  other  periods,  the  most  marked  feature  of  the 
place  would  be  that  of  utter  vacuity  and  desolation.  A 
single  inhabitant  here  and  there  smoking  listlessly  at  his 
door,  —  a  group  of  women,  with  their  arms  concealed  be- 
neath their  aprons,  crouching  under  a  ruined  wall,  —  or  a 
few  ragged  children,  too  miserable  and  dispirited  even  for 
play,  would  be  all  that  would  be  seen. 

At  a  spot  where  the  stream  was  ford  able  for  a  horse,  the 
page  Larry  had  already  stationed  himself,  and  now  walked 
into  the  river,  which  rose  over  his  knees,  to  show  the  road 
to  his  mistress. 

"  The  bailiffs  is  on  them  to-day,"  said  he,  with  a  gleeful 
look  in  his  eye ;  for  any  excitement,  no  matter  at  what  cost 
to  others,  was  intensely  pleasurable  to  him. 

"  What  is  he  saying?  "  asked  Nina. 

"They  are  executing  some  process  of  law  against  these 
people,"  muttered  Donogan.  "  It 's  an  old  story  in  Ireland  ; 
but  I  had  as  soon  you  had  been  spared  the  sight." 

"Is  it  quite  safe  for  yourself?"  whispered  she.  "Is 
there  not  some  dan2;er  in  beino;  seen  here  ? " 


268  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

*'  Oh,  if  I  could  but  think  that  you  cared,  —  I  mean  ever 
so  slightly,"  cried  he,  with  fervor,  "  I  'd  call  this  moment  of 
my  danger  the  proudest  of  my  life !  " 

Though  declarations  of  this  sort,  more  or  less  sincere 
as  chance  might  make  them,  were  things  Nina  was  well 
used  to,  she  could  not  help  marking  the  impassioned  manner 
of  him  who  now  spoke,  and  bent  her  eyes  steadily  on  him. 

"It  is  true,"  said  he,  as  if  answering  the  interrogation  in 
her  gaze.  "  A  poor  outcast  as  I  am,  —  a  rebel,  —  a  felon,  — 
anything  you  like  to  call  me,  —  the  slightest  show  of  your 
interest  in  me  gives  my  life  a  value  and  my  hope  a  purpose 
I  never  knew  till  now." 

"  Such  interest  would  be  but  ill-bestowed  if  it  only  served 
to  heighten  your  danger.     Are  you  known  here  ?  " 

"  He  who  has  stood  in  the  dock,  as  I  have,  is  sure  to  be 
known  by  some  one.  Not  that  the  people  would  betray  me. 
There  is  poverty  and  misery  enough  in  that  wretched  village, 
and  yet  there 's  not  one  so  hungry  or  so  ragged  that  he 
would  hand  me  over  to  the  law  to  make  himself  rich  for 
life." 

"  Then  what  do  you  mean  to  do?  "  asked  she,  hurriedly. 

''  Walk  boldly  through  the  village  at  the  head  of  your 
pony,  as  I  am  now,  —  your  guide  to  Croghan  Castle." 

"  But  we  were  to  have  stabled  the  beast  here.  I  intended 
to  have  gone  on  foot  to  Croghan." 

"  Which  you  cannot  now.  Do  you  know  what  English 
law  is.  Lady?"  cried  he,  fiercely.  "This  pony  and  this 
carriage,  if  they  had  shelter  here,  are  confiscated  to  the 
landlord  for  his  rent.  It 's  little  use  to  say  you  owe  nothing 
to  this  owner  of  the  soil;  it's  enough  that  they  are  found 
amongst  the  chattels  of  his  debtors." 

"  I  cannot  believe  this  is  law." 

"  You  can  prove  it,  —  at  the  loss  of  your  pony  ;  and  it  is 
mercy  and  generous  dealing  when  compared  with  half  the 
enactments  our  rulers  have  devised  for  us.  Follow  me.  I 
see  the  police  have  not  yet  come  down.  I  will  go  on  in 
front  and  ask  the  way  to  Croghan." 

There  was  that  sort  of  peril  in  the  adventure  now  that 
stimulated  Nina  and  excited  her;  and  as  they  stoutly 
wended  their  way  through  the  crowd,  she  was  far  from  in- 


THE  EXCURSION.  209 

sensible  to  the  looks  of  admiration  that  were  bent  on  her 
from  every  side. 

"What  are  they  saying?"  asked  she;  "I  do  not  know 
their  language." 

"  It  is  Irish,"  said  he ;   "  they  are  talking  of  your  beauty." 

"I  should  so  like  to  follow  their  words,"  said  she,  with 
the  smile  of  one  to  whom  such  homage  had  ever  its  charm. 

"  That  wild-looking  fellow,  that  seemed  to  utter  an  im- 
precation, has  just  pronounced  a  fervent  blessing;  what  he 
has  said  was,  '  May  every  glance  of  your  eye  be  a  candle  to 
light  you  to  glory." 

A  half-insolent  laugh  at  this  conceit  was  all  Nina's  ac- 
knowledgment of  it.  Short  greetings  and  good  wishes  were 
now  rapidly  exchanged  between  Donogan  and  the  people,  as 
the  little  party  made  their  wa}^  through  the  crowd,  —  the  men 
standing  bareheaded,  and  the  women  uttering  words  of 
admiration,  some  even  crossing  themselves  piously,  at  sight 
of  such  loveliness  as  to  them  recalled  the  ideal  of  all 
beauty. 

"  The  police  are  to  be  here  at  one  o'clock,"  said  Donogan, 
translating  a  phrase  of  one  of  the  bystanders. 

"  And  is  there  anything  for  them  to  seize  on?  "  asked  she. 

"No;  but  they  can  level  the  cabins,"  cried  he,  bitterly. 
*'  We  have  no  more  right  to  shelter  than  to  food." 

Moody  and  sad,  he  walked  along  at  the  pony's  head,  and 
did  not  speak  another  word  till  they  had  left  the  village  far 
behind  them. 

Larry,  as  usual,  had  found  something  to  interest  him,  and 
dropped  behind  in  the  village,  and  they  were  alone. 

A  passing  countryman,  to  whom  Donogan  addressed  a  few 
words  in  Irish,  told  them  that  a  short  distance  from  Croghan 
they  could  stable  the  pony  at  a  small  "  shebeen." 

On  reaching  this,  Nina,  who  seemed  to  have  accepted 
Donogan's  companionship  without  further  question,  directed 
him  to  unpack  the  carriage,  and  take  out  her  easel  and  her 
drawing  materials.  "You'll  have  to  carry  these,  —  for- 
tunately not  very  far,  though,"  said  she,  smiling,  "  and 
then  you  '11  have  to  come  back  here  and  fetch  this  basket." 

"It  is  a  very  proud  slavery, — command  me  how  you 
will,"  muttered  he,  not  without  emotion. 


270  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

''  That,"  continued  she,  pointing  to  the  basket,  "  contains 
my  breakfast,  and  luncheon  or  dinner,  and  I  invite  you  to  be 
my  guest." 

"And  I  accept  with  rapture.  Oh!"  cried  he,  passion- 
ately, "  what  whispered  to  my  heart  this  morning  that  this 
would  be  the  happiest  day  of  my  life !  " 

"  If  so,  fate  has  scarcely  been  generous  to  you."  And  her 
lip  curled  half  superciliously  as  she  spoke. 

"  I  'd  not  say  that.  I  have  lived  amidst  great  hopes,  many 
of  them  dashed,  it  is  true,  by  disappointment ;  but  who  that 
has  been  cheered  by  glorious  day-dreams  has  not  tasted 
moments  at  least  of  exquisite  bliss?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have  much  sympathy  with  political 
ambitions,"  said  she,  pettishly. 

"  Have  you  tasted,  —  have  you  tried  them?  Do  you  know 
what  it  is  to  feel  the  heart  of  a  nation  throb  and  beat,  — 
to  know  that  all  that  love  can  do  to  purify  and  elevate  can 
be  exercised  for  the  countless  thousands  of  one's  own  race 
and  lineage,  and  to  think  that  long  after  men  have  forgotten 
your  name,  some  heritage  of  freedom  will  survive  to  say  that 
there  once  lived  one  who  loved  his  country?  " 

"  This  is  very  pretty  enthusiasm." 

"  Oh,  how  is  it  that  you,  who  can  stimulate  one's  heart  to 
such  confessions,  know  nothing  of  the  sentiment?  " 

"  I  have  my  ambitions,"  said  she,  coldly,  almost  sternly. 

"  Let  me  hear  some  of  them." 

"They  are  not  like  yours,  though  they  are  perhaps  just 
as  impossible."  She  spoke  in  a  broken,  unconnected  man- 
ner, like  one  who  was  talking  aloud  the  thoughts  that  came 
laggingly;  then  with  a  sudden  earnestness  she  said:  "I'll 
tell  you  one  of  them.  It's  to  catch  the  broad  bold  light  that 
has  just  beat  on  the  old  castle  there,  and  brought  out  all  its 
rich  tints  of  grays  and  yellows  in  such  a  glorious  wealth  of 
color.  Place  my  easel  here,  under  the  trees ;  spread  that  rug 
for  yourself  to  lie  on.  No  —  you  won't  have  it?  Well,  fold 
it  neatly,  and  place  it  there  for  my  feet :  very  nicely  done. 
And  now,  Signor  Ribello,  you  may  unpack  that  basket,  and 
arrange  our  breakfast ;  and  when  you  have  done  all  these, 
throw  yourself  down  on  the  grass,  and  either  tell  me  a  pretty 
story,  or  recite  some  nice  verses  for  me,  or  be  otherwise 
amusinff  and  agreeable." 


THE   EXCURSION.  271 

*'  Shall  I  do  what  will  best  please  myself?  If  so,  it  will 
be  to  lie  here  and  look  at  you." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  she,  with  a  sigh.  "  I  have  always 
thought,  in  looking  at  them,  how  saints  are  bored  by  being 
worshipped,  —  it  adds  fearfully  to  martyrdom  ;  but,  happily, 
I  am  used  to  it.  '  Oh  the  vanity  of  that  girl ! '  Yes,  sir, 
say  it  out:  tell  her  frankly  that  if  she  has  no  friend  to 
caution  her  against  this  besetting  wile,  that  you  will  be  that 
friend.  Tell  her  that  whatever  she  has  of  attraction  is 
spoiled  and  marred  by  this  self-consciousness,  and  that  just 
as  you  are  a  rebel  without  knowing  it,  so  should  she  be 
charming  and  never  suspect  it.  Is  not  that  coming  nicely  ?  " 
said  she,  pointing  to  the  drawing;  "see  how  that  tender 
light  is  carried  down  from  those  gray  walls  to  the  banks 
beneath,  and  dies  away  in  that  little  pool,  where  the  faintest 
breath  of  air  is  rustling.  Don't  look  at  me,  sir ;  look  at  my 
drawing." 

"  True,  there  is  no  tender  light  there,"  muttered  he,  gaz- 
ing at  her  eyes,  where  the  enormous  size  of  the  pupils  had 
given  a  character  of  steadfast  brilliancy,  quite  independent 
of  shape  or  size  or  color. 

"You  know  very  little  about  it,"  said  she,  saucily;  then, 
bending  over  the  drawing,  she  said,  "  That  middle  distance 
wants  a  bit  of  color ;  you  shall  aid  me  here." 

"  How  am  I  to  aid  you?  "  asked  he,  in  sheer  simplicity. 

"  I  mean  that  you  should  be  that  bit  of  color,  there.  Take 
my  scarlet  cloak,  and  perch  yourself  yonder  on  that  low 
rock.  A  few  minutes  will  do.  Was  there  ever  immortality 
so  cheaply  purchased !  Your  biographer  shall  tell  that  you 
were  the  figure  in  that  famous  sketch,  —  what  will  be  called, 
in  the  cant  of  art,  one  of  Nina  Kostalergi's  earliest  and  hap- 
piest efforts.  There,  now,  dear  Mr.  Donogan,  do  as  you 
are  bid." 

"  Do  you  know  the  Greek  ballad,  where  a  youth  remembers 
that  the  word  '  dear '  has  been  coupled  with  his  name,  —  a 
passing  courtesy,  if  even  so  much,  but  enough  to  light  up  a 
whole  chamber  in  his  heart?" 

"  I  know  nothing  of  Greek  ballads.     How  does  it  go?  " 

"It  is  a  simple  melody,  in  a  low  key."  And  he  sang,  in 
a  deep  but  tremulous  voice,  to  a  very  plaintive  air,  — 


272  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  I  took  her  hand  within  my  own, 

I  drew  her  gently  nearer, 
And  whispered  almost  on  her  cheek, 

'  Oh,  would  that  I  were  dearer  ! ' 
Dearer  !     No,  that 's  not  my  prayer : 

A  stranger,  e'en  the  merest, 
Might  chance  to  have  some  value  there ; 

But  I  would  be  the  dearest." 


"What  had  he  done  to  merit  such  a  hope?"  said  she, 
haughtily. 

"  Loved  her,  —  only  loved  her !  " 

"What  value  you  men  must  attach  to  this  gift  of  your 
affection,  when  it  can  nourish  such  thoughts  as  these  !  Your 
very  wilfulness  is  to  win  us,  —  is  not  that  your  theory?  I 
expect  from  the  man  who  offers  me  his  heart  that  he  means 
to  share  with  me  his  own  power  and  his  own  ambition,  —  to 
make  me  the  partner  of  a  station  that  is  to  give  me  some 
pre-eminence  I  had  not  known  before,  nor  could  gain 
unaided." 

"  And  you  would  call  that  marrying  for  love?" 

"  Why  not?  Who  has  such  a  claim  upon  my  life  as  he 
who  makes  the  life  worth  living  for?  Did  you  hear  that 
shout?" 

"  I  heard  it,"  said  he,  standing  still  to  listen. 

"  It  came  from  the  village.     What  can  it  mean?" 

"It's  the  old  war-cry  of  the  houseless,"  said  he,  mourn- 
fully. "It's  a  note  we  are  well  used  to  here.  I  must  go 
down  to  learn.     I'll  be  back  presently." 

"You  are  not  going  into  danger?"  said  she;  and  her 
cheek  grew  paler  as  she  spoke. 

"  And  if  I  were,  who  is  to  care  for  it?  " 

"  Have  you  no  mother,  sister,  sweetheart?" 

"  No,  not  one  of  the  three.     Good-bye." 

"  But  if  I  were  to  say  —  stay  ?  " 

"  I  should  still  go.  To  have  your  love,  I'd  sacrifice  even 
my  honor.  Without  it  —  "  He  threw  up  his  arms  despair- 
ingly and  rushed  away. 

"  These  are  the  men  whose  tempers  compromise  us,"  said 
she,  thoughtfully.  "  We  come  to  accept  their  violence  as  a 
reason,  and  take  mere  impetuosity  for  an  argument.     I  am 


THE  EXCURSION.  273 

glad  that  he  did  not  shake  my  resolution.  There,  that  was 
another  shout,  but  it  seemed  in  joy.  There  was  a  ring  of 
gladness  in  it.  Now  for  my  sketch."  And  she  re-seated 
herself  before  her  easel.  "He  shall  see  when  he  comes 
back  how  diligently  I  have  worked,  and  how  small  a  share 
anxiety  has  had  in  my  thoughts.  The  one  thing  men  are  not 
proof  against  is  our  independence  of  them."  And  thus  talk- 
ing in  broken  sentences  to  herself,  she  went  on  rapidly  with 
her  drawing,  occasionally  stopping  to  gaze  on  it,  and  hum- 
ming some  old  Italian  ballad  to  herself.  "  His  Greek  air 
was  pretty.  Not  that  it  was  Greek ;  these  fragments  of 
melody  were  left  behind  them  by  the  Venetians,  who,  in  all 
lust  of  power,  made  songs  about  contented  poverty  and 
humble  joys.  I  feel  intensely  hungry,  and  if  my  dangerous 
guest  does  not  return  soon  I  shall  have  to  breakfast  alone,  — 
another  way  of  showing  him  how  little  his  fate  has  interested 
me.  My  foreground  here  does  want  that  bit  of  color. 
Why  does  he  not  come  back  ?  "  As  she  rose  to  look  at  her 
drawing,  the  sound  of  somebody  running  attracted  her  atten- 
tion, and  turning,  she  saw  it  was  her  foot-page  Larry  coming 
at  full  speed. 

' '  What  is  it,  Larry  ?     What  has  happened  ?  "  asked  she. 

''You  are  to  go — as  fast  as  you  can,"  said  he;  which, 
being  for  him  a  longer  speech  than  usual,  seemed  to  have 
exhausted  him. 

"  Go  where?  and  why?  " 

''Yes,"  said  he,  with  a  stolid  look,  "  you  are." 

"I  am  to  do  what?  Speak  out,  boy!  Who  sent  you 
here  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  again. 

"Are  they  in  trouble  yonder?  Is  there  fighting  at  the 
village?" 

"No."  And  he  shook  his  head,  as  though  he  said  so 
regretfully. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  you  mean,  boy?  " 

"The  pony  is  ready,"  said  he,  as  he  stooped  down  to 
pack  away  the  things  in  the  basket. 

"Is  that  gentleman  coming  back  here, — that  gentleman 
whom  you  saw  with  me?" 

"He  is  gone;  he  got  away."     And   here  he  laughed  in 

18 


274  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

a  malicious  way,  that  was  more  puzzling  even  than  his 
words. 

"And  am  I  to  go  back  home  at  once?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  he,  resolutely. 

"Do  you  know  why,  —  for  what  reason? " 

"I  do." 

"Come,  like  a  good  boy,  tell  me,  and  you  shall  have 
this ;  "  and  she  drew  a  piece  of  silver  from  her  purse,  and 
held  it  temptingly  before  him.  "  Why  should  I  go  back, 
now  ?  " 

"Because,"  muttered  he, —  "because  —  "  and  it  w^as  plain, 
from  the  glance  in  his  eyes,  that  the  bribe  had  engaged  all 
his  faculties. 

"So,  then,  you  will  not  tell  me?"  said  she,  replacing  the 
money  in  her  purse. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  in  a  despondent  tone. 

"You  can  have  it  still,  Larry,  if  you  will  but  say  who 
sent  you  here." 

"^e  sent  me,"  was  the  answer. 

"Who  was  he?  Do  you  mean  the  gentleman  who  came 
here  with  me?"  A  nod  assented  to  this.  "And  what  did 
he  tell  you  to  say  to  me?  " 

"Yes,"  said  he,  with  a  puzzled  look,  as  though  once  more 
the  confusion  of  his  thoughts  was  mastering  him. 

"So,  then,  it  is  that  you  will  not  tell  me?"  said  she, 
angrily.  He  made  no  answer,  but  went  on  packing  the 
plates  in  the  basket.  "  Leave  those  there,  and  go  and  fetch 
me  some  water  from  the  spring  yonder."  And  she  gave  him 
a  jug  as  she  spoke,  and  now  she  reseated  herself  on  the 
grass.  He  obeyed  at  once,  and  returned  speedily  with 
water. 

"Come  now,  Larry,  "  said  she  kindly  to  him.  "I  'm  sure 
you  mean  to  be  a  good  boy.  You  shall  breakfast  with  me. 
Get  me  a  cup,  and  I  '11  give  you  some  milk ;  here  is  bread 
and  cold  meat." 

"Yes,"  muttered  Larry,  whose  mouth  was  already  too 
much  engaged  for  speech. 

"You  will  tell  me  by  and  by  what  they  were  doing  at  the 
village,  and  what  that  shouting  meant,  —  won't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  he,  with  a  nod.     Then  suddenly  bending  his 


THE  EXCURSION.  275 

head  to  listen,  he  motioned  with  his  hand  to  keep  silence, 
and  after  a  long  breath  said,  "They  're  coming." 

"Who  are  coming?"  asked  she,  eagerly;  but  at  the  same 
instant  a  man  emerged  from  the  copse  below  the  hill,  fol- 
lowed by  several  others,  whom  she  saw  by  their  dress  and 
equipment  to  belong  to  the  constabulary. 

Approaching  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  with  that  air 
of  servile  civility  which  marked  him,  old  Gill  addressed 
her.  "If  it 's  not  displazin'  to  ye,  miss,  we  want  to  ax  you 
a  few  questions,"  said  he. 

"You  have  no  right,  sir,  to  make  any  such  request,"  said 
she,  with  a  haughty  air. 

"There  was  a  man  with  you,  my  Lady,"  he  went  on,  "as 
you  drove  through  Cruhan,  and  we  want  to  know  where  he 
is  now." 

"That  concerns  you,  sir,  and  not  me." 

"Maybe  it  does,  my  Lady,"  said  he,  with  a  grin;  "but  I 
suppose  you  know  who  you  were  travelling  with  ?  " 

"You  evidently  don't  remember,  sir,  whom  you  are 
talking  to." 

"The  law  is  the  law,  miss,  and  there  's  none  of  us  above 
it,"  said  he,  half  defiantly;  "and  when  there's  some  hun- 
dred pounds  on  a  man's  head  there  's  few  of  us  such  fools  as 
to  let  him  slip  through  our  fingers." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  sir,  nor  do  I  care  to  do  so." 

"The  sergeant  there  has  a  warrant  against  him,"  said  he, 
in  a  whisper  he  intended  to  be  confidential;  "and  it 's  not 
to  do  anything  that  your  Ladyship  would  think  rude  that  I 
came  up  myself.  There  's  how  it  is  now,"  muttered  he, 
still  lower.  "  They  want  to  search  the  luggage,  and  exam- 
ine the  baskets  there,  and  maybe,  if  you  don't  object,  they  'd 
look  through  the  carriage." 

"And  if  I  should  object  to  this  insult?  "  broke  she  in. 

"Faix,  I  believe,"  said  he,  laughing,  "they  'd  do  it  all  the 
same.  Eight  hundred  —  I  think  it's  eight — isn't  to  be 
made  any  day  of  the  year!" 

"My  uncle  is  a  justice  of  the  peace,  Mr.  Gill;  and  you 
know  if  he  will  suffer  such  an  outrage  to  go  unpunished." 

"There  's  the  more  reason  that  a  justice  should  n't  harbor 
a  Fenian,  miss,"  said  he,  boldly;  "as  he  '11  know  when  he 
sees  the  search-warrant." 


^76  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"Get  ready  the  carriage,  Larry,"  said  she,  turning  con- 
temptuously away,  ''and  follow  me  towards  the  village." 

''The  sergeant,  miss,  would  like  to  say  a  word  or  two," 
said  Gill,  in  his  accustomed  voice  of  servility. 

"I  will  not  speak  with  him,"  said  she,  proudly,  and 
swept  past  him. 

The  constables  stood  to  one  side,  and  saluted  in  military 
fashion  as  she"  passed  down  the  hill.  There  was  that  in 
her  queen-like  gesture  and  carriage  that  so  impressed  them, 
the  men  stood  as  though  on  parade. 

Slowly  and  thoughtfully  as  she  sauntered  along,  her 
thoughts  turned  to  Donogan.  Had  he  escaped?  was  the 
idea  that  never  left  her.  The  presence  of  these  men  here 
seemed  to  favor  that  impression ;  but  there  might  be  others 
on  his  track ;  and  if  so,  how  in  that  wild  bleak  space  was 
he  to  conceal  himself?  A  single  man  moving  miles  away 
on  the  bog  could  be  seen.  There  was  no  covert,  no  shelter 
anywhere !  What  an  interest  did  his  fate  now  suggest ;  and 
yet  a  moment  back  she  believed  herself  indifferent  to  him. 
"Was  he  aware  of  his  danger,"  thought  she,  "when  he  lay 
there  talking  carelessly  to  me?  was  that  recklessness  the 
bravery  of  a  bold  man  who  despised  peril  ? "  And  if  so, 
what  stuff  these  souls  were  made  of !  These  were  not  of  the 
Kearney  stamp,  that  needed  to  be  stimulated  and  goaded  to 
any  effort  in  life;  nor  like  Atlee,  the  fellow  who  relied  on 
trick  and  knavery  for  success ;  still  less  such  as  Walpole, 
self- worshippers  and  triflers.  "Yes,"  said  she,  aloud,  "a 
woman  might  feel  that  with  such  a  man  at  her  side  the 
battle  of  life  need  not  affright  her.  He  might  venture  too 
far,  —  he  might  aspire  to  much  that  was  beyond  his  reach, 
and  strive  for  the  impossible;  but  that  grand  bold  spirit 
would  sustain  him,  and  carry  him  through  all  the  smaller 
storms  of  life ;  and  such  a  man  might  be  a  hero,  even  to 
her  who  saw  him  daily.  These  are  the  dreamers,  as  we 
call  them,"  said  she.  "How  strange  it  would  be  if  they 
should  prove  the  realists,  and  that  it  was  ive  should  be  the 
mere  shadows !  If  these  be  the  men  who  move  empires  and 
make  history,  how  doubly  ignoble  are  we  in  our  contempt 
of  them."  And  then  she  bethought  her  what  a  different 
faculty  was  that  great  faith  that  these  men  had  in  them- 


THE   EXCURSION.  277 

selves  from  common  vanity ;  and  in  this  way  she  was  led 
again  to  compare  Donogan  and  Walpole. 

She  reached  the  village  before  her  little  carriage  had 
overtaken  her,  and  saw  that  the  people  stood  about  in  groups 
and  knots.  A  depressing  silence  prevailed  over  them,  and 
they  rarely  spoke  above  a  whisper.  The  same  respectful 
greeting,  however,  which  welcomed  her  before  met  her  again ; 
and  as  they  lifted  their  hats,  she  saw,  or  thought  she  saw, 
that  they  looked  on  her  with  a  more  tender  interest.  Several 
policemen  moved  about  through  the  crowd,  who,  though 
tney  saluted  her  respectfully,  could  not  refrain  from  scruti- 
nizing her  appearance  and  watching  her  as  she  went.  With 
that  air  of  haughty  self-possession  which  well  became  her, 
—  for  it  was  no  affectation,  —  she  swept  proudly  along, 
resolutely  determined  not  to  utter  a  word,  or  even  risk  a 
question  as  to  the  way. 

Twice  she  turned  to  see  if  her  pony  were  coming,  and 
then  resumed  her  road.  From  the  excited  air  and  rapid 
gestures  of  the  police,  as  they  hurried  from  place  to  place, 
she  could  guess  that  up  to  this  Donogan  had  not  been  cap- 
tured. Still,  it  seemed  hopeless  that  concealment  in  such 
a  place  could  be  accomplished.  , 

As  she  gained  the  little  stream  that  divided  the  village, 
she  stood  for  a  moment  uncertain ;  when  a  countrywoman, 
as  it  were  divining  her  difficulty,  said,  "If  you  '11  cross 
over  the  bridge,  my  Lady,  the  path  will  bring  you  out  on 
the  high-road." 

As  Nina  turned  to  thank  her,  the  woman  looked  up  from 
her  task  of  washing  in  the  river,  and  made  a  gesture  with 
her  hand  towards  the  bog.  Slight  as  the  action  was,  it 
appealed  to  that  Southern  intelligence  that  reads  a  sign  even 
faster  than  a  word.  Nina  saw  that  the  woman  meant  to 
say  Donogan  had  escaped,  and  once  more  she  said,  "Thank 
you,  —  from  my  heart  I  thank  you !  "  • 

Just  as  she  emerged  upon  the  high-road,  her  pony  and  car- 
riage came  up.  A  sergeant  of  police  was,  however,  in 
waiting  beside  it,  who,  saluting  her  respectfully,  said: 
"There  was  no  disrespect  meant  to  you,  miss,  by  our 
search  of  the  carriage ;  our  duty  obliged  us  to  do  it.  We 
have  a  warrant  to  apprehend  the   man  that  was  seen  with 


278  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

you  this  morning,  and  it 's  only  that  we  know  who  you  are, 
and  where  you  come  from,  prevents  us  from  asking  you  to 
come  before  our  chief." 

He  presented  his  arm  to  assist  her  to  her  place  as  he 
spoke ;  but  she  declined  the  help,  and,  without  even  notic- 
ing him  in  any  way,  arranged  her  rugs  and  wraps  around 
her,  took  the  reins,  and,  motioning  Larry  to  his  place, 
drove  on. 

"Is  my  drawing  safe?  —  have  all  my  brushes  and  pencils 
been  put  in  ?  "  asked  she,  after  a  while.  But  already  Larry 
had  taken  his  leave,  and  she  could  see  him  as  he  flitted 
across  the  bog  to  catch  her  by  some  short  cut. 

That  strange  contradiction  by  which  a  woman  can  jour- 
ney alone  and  in  safety  through  the  midst  of  a  country  only 
short  of  open  insurrection,  filled  her  mind  as  she  went;  and 
thinking  of  it  in  every  shape  and  fashion  occupied  her  for 
miles  of  the  way.  The  desolation,  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  was  complete,  —  there  was  not  a  habitation,  not  a 
human  thing  to  be  seen.  The  dark  brown  desert  faded 
away  in  the  distance  into  low-lying  clouds,  the  only  break 
to  the  dull  uniformity  being  some  stray  "clamp,"  as  it  is 
called,  of  turf,  left  by  the  owners  from  some  accident  of 
season  or  bad  weather,  and  which  loomed  out  now  against 
the  sky  like  a  vast  fortress. 

This  long,  long  day  —  for  so  without  any  weariness  she 
felt  it  —  was  now  in  the  afternoon,  and  already  long 
shadows  of  these  turf-mounds  stretched  their  giant  limbs 
across  the  waste.  Nina,  who  had  eaten  nothing  since  at 
early  morning,  felt  faint  and  hungry.  She  halted  her  pony, 
and  taking  out  some  bread  and  a  bottle  of  milk,  proceeded 
to  make  a  frugal  luncheon.  The  complete  loneliness,  the 
perfect  silence,  in  which  even  the  rattling  of  the  harness  as 
the  pony  shook  himself  made  itself  felt,  gave  something  of 
solemnity  to  the  moment,  as  the  young  girl  sat  there  and 
gazed  half  terrified  around  her. 

As  she  looked,  she  thought  she  saw  something  pass  from 
one  turf-clamp  to  the  other;  and,  watching  closely,  she 
could  distinctly  detect  a  figure  crouching  near  the  ground, 
and  after  some  minutes  emerging  into  the  open  space, 
again  to  be  hid  by  some  vast  turf-mound.     There,  now,  — 


THE   EXCURSION.  279 

there  could  not  be  a  doubt,  —  it  was  a  man,  and  he  was 
waving  his  handkerchief  as  a  signal.  It  was  Donogan  him- 
self; she  could  recognize  him  well.  Clearing  the  long 
drains  at  a  bound,  and  with  a  speed  that  vouched  for  per- 
fect training,  he  came  rapidly  forward,  and,  leaping  the  wide 
trench,  alighted  at  last  on  the  road  beside  her. 

"I  have  watched  you  for  an  hour,  and  but  for  this  lucky 
halt,  I  should  not  have  overtaken  you  after  all,"  cried  he, 
as  he  wiped  his  brow,  and  stood  panting  beside  her. 

"Do  you  know  that  they  are  in  pursuit  of  you?"  cried 
she,  hastily. 

"I  know  it  all.  I  learned  it  before  I  reached  the  village, 
and  in  time  —  only  in  time  —  to  make  a  circuit  and  reach 
the  bog.     Once  there^  I  defy  the  best  of  them." 

"They  have  what  they  call  a  warrant  to  search  for  you." 

"I  know  that,  too,"  cried  he.  "No,  no!"  said  he,  pas- 
sionately, as  she  offered  him  a  drink.  "Let  me  have  it 
from  the  cup  you  have  drunk  from.  It  may  be  the  last 
favor  I  shall  ever  ask  you,  — don't  refuse  me  this!  " 

She  touched  the  glass  slightly  with  her  lips,  and  handed 
it  to  him  with  a  smile. 

"What  peril  would  I  not  brave  for  this!  "  cried  he,  with  a 
wild  ecstasy. 

"Can  you  not  venture  to  return  with  me?"  said  she,  in 
some  confusion,  for  the  bold  gleam  of  his  gaze  now  half 
abashed  her. 

"No.  That  would  be  to  compromise  others  as  well  as 
myself.  I  must  gain  Dublin  how  I  can.  There  I  shall  be 
safe  against  all  pursuit.  I  have  come  back  for  nothing 
but  disappointment,"  added  he,  sorrowfull3^  "This  coun- 
try is  not  ready  to  rise;  they  are  too  many-minded  for  a 
common  effort.  The  men  like  Wolfe  Tone  are  not  to  be 
found  amongst  us  now,  and  to  win  freedom  you  must  dare 
the  felony." 

"Is  it  not  dangerous  to  delay  so  long  here?  "  asked  she, 
looking  around  her  with  anxiety. 

"So  it  is;  and  I  will  go.  Will  you  keep  this  for  me?" 
said  he,  placing  a  thick  and  much- worn  pocket-book  in  her 
hands.  "There  are  papers  there  would  risk  far  better  heads 
than  mine ;  and  if  I  should  be  taken,  these  must  not  be  dis- 


280  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

covered.  It  may  be,  Nina,  —  oh,  forgive  me  if  I  say  your 
name !  but  it  is  such  joy  to  me  to  utter  it  once,  —  it  may  be 
that  you  should  chance  to  hear  some  word  whose  warning 
might  save  me.  If  so,  and  if  you  would  deign  to  write  to 
me,  you  '11  find  three,  if  not  four,  addresses,  under  any  of 
which  you  could  safely  write  to  me." 

"I  shall  not  forget.    Good  fortune  be  with  you.    Adieu!  '* 

She  held  out  her  hand ;  but  he  bent  over  it,  and  kissed  it 

rapturously;  and  when  he  raised  his  head,  his  eyes  were 

streaming,  and  his  cheeks  deadly  pale.     "Adieu!  "   said 

she,  again. 

He  tried  to  speak,  but  no  sound  came  from  his  lips;  and 
when,  after  she  had  driven  some  distance  away,  she  turned 
to  look  after  him,  he  was  standing  on  the  same  spot  in  the 
road,  his  hat  at  his  foot,  where  it  had  fallen  when  he 
stooped  to  kiss  her  hand. 


^     OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE    RETURN. 

Kate  Kearney  was  in  the  act  of  sending  out  scouts  and 
messengers  to  look  out  for  Nina,  whose  long  absence  had 
begun  to  alarm  her,  when  she  heard  that  she  had  returned 
and  was  in  her  room. 

''What  a  fright  you  have  given  me,  darling!  "  said  Kate, 
as  she  threw  her  arms  about  her,  and  kissed  her  affection- 
ately.    "Do  you  know  how  late  you  are? " 

"No;  I  only  know  how  tired  I  am." 

"What  a  long  day  of  fatigue  you  must  have  gone  through  I 
Tell  me  of  it  all." 

"Tell  me  rather  of  yours.  You  have  had  the  great  Mr. 
Walpole  here ;  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"Yes ;  he  is  still  here, —  he  has  graciously  given  us  another 
day,  and  will  not  leave  till  to-morrow  night." 

"By  what  good  fortune  have  you  been  so  favored  as 
this?" 

"Ostensibly  to  finish  a  long  conversation  or  conference 
with  papa;  but  really  and  truthfully,  I  suspect,  to  meet 
Mademoiselle  Kostalergi,  whose  absence  has  piqued  him." 

"Yes;  piqued  is  the  word.  It  is  the  extreme  of  the  pain 
he  is  capable  of  feeling.     What  has  he  said  of  it?  " 

"Nothing  beyond  the  polite  regrets  that  courtesy  could 
express,  and  then  adverted  to  something  else." 

"With  an  abruptness  that  betrayed  preparation?" 

"Perhaps  so." 

"Not  perhaps,  but  certainly  so.  Vanity  such  as  his  has 
no  variety.  It  repeats  its  moods  over  and  over;  but  why 
do  we  talk  of  him  ?  I  have  other  things  to  tell  you  of.  You 
know  that  man  who  came  here  with  Dick.     That  Mr.  —  " 


282  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"I  know,  — I  know,"  cried  the  other,  hurriedly;  "what  of 
him?" 

"He  joined  me  this  morning,  on  my  way  through  the  bog, 
and  drove  with  me  to  Cruhan." 

"Indeed!"  muttered  Kate,  thoughtfully. 

"A  strange,  wayward,  impulsive  sort  of  creature,  — 
unlike  any  one ;  interesting  from  his  strong  convictions  —  " 

"Did  he  convert  you  to  any  of  his  opinions,  Nina?  " 

"You  mean,  make  a  rebel  of  me.  No;  for  the  simple 
reason  that  I  had  none  to  surrender.  I  do  not  know  what 
is  wrong  here,  nor  what  people  would  say  was  right." 

"You  are  aware,  then,  who  he  is?" 

"  Of  course  I  am.  I  was  on  the  terrace  that  night  when 
your  brother  told  you  he  was  Donogan,  — the  famous  Fenian 
Donogan.  The  secret  was  not  intended  for  me,  but  I  kept 
it  all  the  same,  and  I  took  an  interest  in  the  man  from  the 
time  I  heard  it." 

"You  told  him,  then,  that  you  knew  who  he  was." 

"To  be  sure  I  did,  and  we  are  fast  friends  already;  but 
let  me  go  on  with  my  narrative.  Some  excitement,  some 
show  of  disturbance  at  Cruhan  persuaded  him  that  what 
he  called  —  I  don't  know  why  —  the  Crowbar  Brigade  was 
at  work,  and  that  the  people  were  about  to  be  turned  adrift 
on  the  world  by  the  landlord,  and  hearing  a  wild  shout  from 
the  village,  he  insisted  on  going  back  to  learn  what  it  might 
mean.  He  had  not  left  me  long  when  your  late  steward. 
Gill,  came  up  with  several  policemen,  to  search  for  the  con- 
vict Donogan.  They  had  a  warrant  to  apprehend  him,  and 
some  information  as  to  where  he  had  been  housed  and 
sheltered." 

"Here  —  with  us?" 

"Here  —  with  you!  Gill  knew  it  all.  This,  then,  was  the 
reason  for  that  excitement  we  had  seen  in  the  village.  The 
people  had  heard  the  police  were  coming,  but  for  what  they 
knew  not;  of  course  the  only  thought  was  for  their  own 
trouble." 

"Has  he  escaped?     Is  he  safe?  " 

"Safe  so  far  that  I  last  saw  him  on  the  wide  bog,  some 
eight  miles  away  from  any  human  habitation;  but  where 
he  is  to  turn  to,  or  who  is  to  shelter  him,  I  cannot  say. " 


THE   RETURN.  283 

*'He  told  you  there  was  a  price  upon  his  head?  " 

"Yes,  some  hundred  pounds;  I  forget  how  much,  but  he 
asked  me  yesterday  if  1  did  not  feel  tempted  to  give  him 
up  and  earn  the  reward." 

Kate  leaned  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and  seemed  lost  in 
thought. 

"They  will  scarcely  dare  to  come  and  search  for  him 
here,"  said  she;  and,  after  a  pause,  added,  "And  yet  I 
suspect  that  the  chief  constable,  Mr.  Curtis,  owes,  or  thinks 
he  owes,  us  a  grudge ;  he  might  not  be  sorry  to  pass  this 
slight  upon  papa."  And  she  pondered  for  some  time  over 
the  thought. 

"  Do  you  think  he  can  escape?  "  asked  Nina,  eagerly. 

"Who,  —  Donogan?  " 

"Of  course,  —  Donogan." 

"Yes,  I  suspect  he  will;  these  men  have  popular  feeling 
with  them,  even  amongst  many  who  do  not  share  their 
opinions.  Have  you  lived  long  enough  amongst  us,  Nina, 
to  know  that  we  all  hate  the  law?  In  some  shape  or  other 
it  represents  to  the  Irish  mind  a  tyranny." 

"You  are  Greeks  without  their  acuteness,"  said  Nina. 

"I'll  not  say  that,"  said  Kate,  hastily.  "It  is  true  I 
know  nothing  of  your  people,  but  I  think  I  could  aver  that 
for  a  shrewd  calculation  of  the  cost  of  a  venture,  for  know- 
ing when  caution  and  when  daring  will  best  succeed,  the 
Irish  peasant  has  scarcely  a  superior  anywhere." 

"I  have  heard  much  of  his  caution  this  very  morning," 
said  Nina,  superciliously. 

"You  might  have  heard  far  more  of  his  recklessness,  if 
Donogan  cared  to  tell  of  it,"  said  Kate,  with  irritation.  "It 
is  not  English  equadrons  and  batteries  he  is  called  alone  to 
face,  he  has  to  meet  English  gold,  that  tempts  poverty,  and 
English  corruption,  that  begets  treachery  and  betrayal. 
The  one  stronghold  of  the  Saxon  here  is  the  informer,  and 
mind,  I,  who  tell  you  this,  am  no  rebel.  I  would  rather 
live  under  English  law,  if  English  law  would  not  ignore 
Irish  feeling,  than  I  'd  accept  that  Heaven  knows  what  of 
a  government  Fenianism  could  give  us." 

"I  care  nothing  for  all  this;  I  don't  well  know  if  I  can 
follow  it;  but  I  do  know  that  I  'd  like  this  man  to  escape. 


284  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

He  gave  me  this  pocket-book,  and  told  me  to  keep  it  safely. 
It  contains  some  secrets  that  would  compromise  people  that 
none  suspect,  and  it  has,  besides,  some  three  or  four 
addresses  to  which  I  could  write  with  safety  if  I  saw  cause 
to  warn  him  of  any  coming  danger." 

"And  you  mean  to  do  this?" 

"  Of  course  I  do ;  I  feel  an  interest  in  this  man.  I  like 
him.  I  like  his  adventurous  spirit.  I  like  that  ambitious 
daring  to  do  or  to  be  something  beyond  the  herd  around 
him.  I  like  that  readiness  he  shows  to  stake  his  life  on  an 
issue.  His  enthusiasm  inflames  his  whole  nature.  He 
vulgarizes  such  fine  gentlemen  as  Mr.  Walpole,  and  such 
poor  pretenders  as  Joe  Atlee,  and,  indeed,  your  brother, 
Kate." 

"I  will  suffer  no  detraction  of  Dick  Kearney,"  said  Kate, 
resolutely. 

*'Give  me  a  cup  of  tea,  then,  and  I  shall  be  more  man- 
nerly ;  for  I  am  quite  exhausted,  and  I  am  afraid  my  temper 
is  not  proof  against  starvation." 

"  But  you  will  come  down  to  the  drawing-room ;  they  are 
all  so  eager  to  see  you,"  said  Kate,  caressingly. 

"No;  I  '11  have  my  tea  and  go  to  bed,  and  I  '11  dream  that 
Mr.  Donogan  has  been  made  King  of  Ireland,  and  made  an 
offer  to  share  the  throne  with  me." 

"Your  Majesty's  tea  shall  be  served  at  once,"  said  Kate, 
as  she  courtesied  deeply  and  withdrew. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 


There  were  many  more  pretentious  houses  than  "O' Shea's 
Barn."  It  would  have  been  easy  enough  to  discover  larger 
rooms  and  finer  furniture,  more  numerous  servants  and 
more  of  display  in  all  the  details  of  life ;  but  for  an  air  of 
quiet  comfort,  for  the  certainty  of  meeting  with  every  mate- 
rial enjoyment  that  people  of  moderate  fortune  aspire  to,  it 
stood  unrivalled. 

The  rooms  were  airy  and  cheerful,  with  flowers  in  sum- 
mer, as  they  were  well  heated  and  well  lighted  in  winter. 
The  most  massive-looking  but  luxurious  old  arm-chairs, 
that  modern  taste  would  have  repudiated  for  ugliness, 
abounded  everywhere;  and  the  four  cumbrous  but  comfort- 
able seats  that  stood  around  the  circular  dinner-table  —  and 
it  was  a  matter  of  principle  with  Miss  Betty  that  the  com- 
pany should  never  be  more  numerous  —  only  needed  speech 
to  have  told  of  traditions  of  conviviality  for  very  nigh  two 
centuries  back. 

As  for  a  dinner  at  "the  Barn,"  the  whole  county-side  con- 
fessed that  they  never  knew  how  it  was  that  Miss  Betty's 
salmon  was  "curdier,"  and  her  mountain  mutton  more 
tender,  and  her  woodcocks  racier  and  of  higher  flavor  than 
any  one  else's.  Her  brown  sherry  you  might  have  equalled, 
—  she  liked  the  color  and  the  heavy  taste,  —  but  I  defy  you 
to  match  that  marvellous  port  which  came  in  with  the 
cheese,  and  as  little,  in  these  days  of  light  Bordeaux,  that 
stout-hearted  Sneyd's  claret,  in  its  ancient  decanter,  whose 
delicately  fine  neck  seemed  fashioned  to  retain  the  bouquet. 

The  most  exquisite  compliment  that  a  courtier  ever 
uttered  could  not  have  given  Miss  Betty  the  same  pleasure 
as  to  hear  one  of  her  guests  request  a  second  slice  off  "the 
haunch."     This  was,  indeed,  a  flattery  that  appealed  to  her 


286  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

finest  sensibilities,  and,  as  she  herself  carved,  she  knew  how 
to  reward  that  appreciative  man  with  fat. 

Never  was  the  virtue  of  hospitality  more  self-rewarding 
than  in  her  case;  and  the  discriminating  individual  who 
ate  with  gusto,  and  who  never  associated  the  wrong  condi- 
ment with  his  food,  found  favor  in  her  eyes,  and  was  sure 
of  re-invitation. 

Fortune  had  rewarded  her  with  one  man  of  correct  taste 
and  exquisite  palate  as  a  diner-out.  This  was  the  parish 
priest,  the  Rev.  Luke  Delany,  who  had  been  educated 
abroad,  and  whose  natural  gifts  had  been  improved  by 
French  and  Italian  experiences.  He  was  a  small  little  meek 
man,  with  closely  cut  black  hair  and  eyes  of  the  darkest; 
scrupulously  neat  in  dress,  and,  by  his  ruffles  and  buckled 
shoes  at  dinner,  affecting  something  of  the  abbe  in  his 
appearance.  To  such  as  associated  the  Catholic  priest  with 
coarse  manners,  vulgar  expressions,  or  violent  sentiments, 
Father  Luke,  with  his  low  voice,  his  well-chosen  words, 
and  his  universal  moderation,  was  a  standing  rebuke;  and 
many  an  English  tourist  who  met  him  came  away  with  the 
impression  of  the  gross  calumny  that  associated  this  man's 
order  with  underbred  habits  and  disloyal  ambitions.  He 
spoke  little,  but  he  was  an  admirable  listener;  and  there 
was  a  sweet  encouragement  in  the  bland  nod  of  his  head,* 
and  a  racy  appreciation  in  the  bright  twinkle  of  his  hu- 
morous eye,  that  the  prosiest  talker  found  irresistible. 

There  were  times,  indeed,  —  stirring  intervals  of  political 
excitement, — when  Miss  Betty  would  have  liked  more 
hardihood  and  daring  in  her  ghostly  counsellor;  but  Heaven 
help  the  man  who  would  have  ventured  on  the  open  avowal 
of  such  opinion  or  uttered  a  word  in  disparagement  of 
Father  Luke. 

It  was  in  that  snug  dinner-room  I  have  glanced  at  that  a 
party  of  four  sat  over  their  wine.  They  had  dined  admi- 
rably, a  bright  wood-fire  blazed  on  the  hearth,  and  the  scene 
was  the  emblem  of  comfort  and  quiet  conviviality.  Oppo- 
site Miss  O'Shea  sat  Father  Delany,  and  on  either  side  of 
her  her  nephew  Gorman  and  Mr.  Ralph  Miller,  in  whose 
honor  the  present  dinner  was  given. 

The  Romish  bishop  of  the  diocese  had  vouchsafed  a  guarded 


•'O'SHEA'S  BARN."  287 

and  cautious  approval  of  Mr.  Miller's  views,  and  secretly 
instructed  Father  Delany  to  learn  as  much  more  as  he  con- 
veniently could  of  the  learned  gentleman's  intentions  before 
committing  himself  to  a  pledge  of  hearty  support. 

"I  will  give  him  a  good  dinner,"  said  Miss  O'Shea,  "and 
some  of  the  '45  claret;  and  if  you  cannot  get  his  sentiments 
out  of  him  after  that,  I  wash  my  hands  of  him." 

Father  Delany  accepted  his  share  of  the  task,  and  assur- 
edly Miss  Betty  did  not  fail  on  her  part. 

The  conversation  had  turned  principally  on  the  coming 
election,  and  Mr.  Miller  gave  a  flourishing  account  of  his 
success  as  a  canvasser,  and  even  went  the  length  of  doubting 
if  any  opposition  would  be  offered  to  him. 

"Ain't  you  and  young  Kearney  going  on  the  same  ticket?  " 
asked  Gorman,  who  was  too  new  to  Ireland  to  understand 
the  nice  distinctions  of  party. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Miller,  "we  differ  essentially.  We 
want  a  government  in  Ireland;  the  nationalists  want  none. 
We  desire  order  by  means  of  timely  concessions  and  judi- 
cious boons  to  the  people.  They  want  disorder,  the  dis- 
play of  gross  injustice,  —  content  to  wait  for  a  scramble, 
and  see  what  can  come  of  it." 

"Mr.  Miller's  friends,  besides,"  interposed  Father  Luke, 
"would  defend  the  Church  and  protect  the  Holy  Father;  " 
and  this  was  said  with  a  half  interrogation. 

Miller  coughed  twice,  and  said,  "Unquestionably.  We 
have  shown  our  hand  already ;  look  what  we  have  done  witli 
the  Established  Church." 

"You  need  not  be  proud  of  it,"  cried  Miss  Betty.  "If 
you  wanted  to  get  rid  of  the  crows,  why  did  n't  you  pull 
down  the  rookery  ?  " 

"At  least,  they  don't  caw  so  loud  as  they  used,"  said 
the  priest,  smiling;  and  Miller  exchanged  delighted  glances 
with  him  for  his  opinion. 

"I  want  to  be  rid  of  them,  root  and  branch,"  said  Miss 
Betty. 

"If  you  will  vouchsafe  us,  ma'am,  a  little  patience. 
Rome  was  not  built  in  a  day.  The  next  victory  of  our 
Church  must  be  won  by  the  downfall  of  the  English  estab- 
lishment.    Ain't  I  right.  Father  Luke?  " 


288  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"I  am  not  quite  clear  about  that,"  said  the  priest,  cau- 
tiously.    "Equality  is  not  the  safe  road  to  supremacy^" 

"What  was  that  row  over  towards  Croghan  Castle  this 
morning?"  asked  Gorman,  who  was  getting  wearied  with 
a  discussion  he  could  not  follow.  "  I  saw  the  constabulary 
going  in  force  there  this  afternoon." 

"They  were  in  pursuit  of  the  celebrated  Dan  Donogan," 
said  Father  Luke.     "They  say  he  was  seen  at  Moate." 

"They  say  more  than  that,"  said  Miss  Betty.  "  They  say 
that  he  is  stopping  at  Kilgobbin  Castle !  " 

"I  suppose  to  conduct  young  Kearney's  election,"  said 
Miller,  laughing. 

"And  why  should  they  hunt  him  down?  "  asked  Gorman. 
"What  has  he  done?  " 

"He's  a  Fenian,  — a  Head-Centre;  a  man  who  wants  to 
revolutionize  Ireland,"  replied  Miller. 

"And  destroy  the  Church,"  chimed  in  the  priest. 

"Humph!  "  muttered  Gorman,  who  seemed  to  imply.  Is 
this  all  you  can  lay  to  his  charge?  "Has  he  escaped?" 
asked  he,  suddenly. 

"  Up  to  this  he  has,"  said  Miller.  "  I  was  talking  to  the 
constabulary  chief  this  afternoon,  and  he  told  me  that  the 
fellow  is  sure  to  be  apprehended.  He  has  taken  to  4;he  open 
bog,  and  there  are  eighteen  in  full  cry  after  him.  There  is 
a  search-warrant  too  arrived,  and  they  mean  to  look  him 
up  at  Kilgobbin  Castle." 

"To  search  Kilgobbin  Castle,  do  you  mean?"  asked 
Gorman. 

' '  Just  so.  It  will  be,  as  I  perceive  you  think  it,  a  great 
offence  to  Mr.  Kearney,  and  it  is  not  impossible  that  his 
temper  may  provoke  him  to  resist  it." 

"  The  mere  rumor  may  materially  assist  his  son's  election," 
said  the  priest,  slyly. 

"  Only  with'  the  party  who  have  no  votes.  Father  Luke," 
rejoined  Miller.  "  That  precarious  popularity  of  the  mob  is 
about  the  most  dangerous  enemy  a  man  can  have  in  Ireland." 

"  You  are  right,  sir,"  said  the  priest,  blandly.  "  The  real 
favor  of  this  people  is  only  bestowed  on  him  who  has  gained 
the  confidence  of  the  clergy." 

"  If  that  be  true,"  cried  Gorman,  "  upon  my  oath  I  think 


"O'SHEA'S  BARN."  '  289 

you  are  worse  off  here  than  in  Austria.  There,  at  least, 
we  are  beginning  to  think  without  the  permission  of  the 
Church."  - 

"Let  us  have  none  of  your  atheism  here,  young  man," 
broke  in  his  aunt,  angrily.  "Such  sentiments  have  never 
been  heard  in  this  room  before." 

"If  I  apprehend  Lieutenant  Gorman  aright,"  interposed 
Father  Luke,  "  he  only  refers  to  the  late  movement  of 
the  Austrian  Empire  with  reference  to  the  Concordat,  on 
which,  amongst  religious  men,  there  are  two   opinions." 

"No,  no,  you  mistake  me  altogether,"  rejoined  Gormaln. 
"  What  I  mean  was  that  a  man  can  read  and  talk  and 
think  in  Austria  without  the  leave  of  the  priest ;  that  he  can 
marry,  and,  if  he  like,  he  can  die  without  his  assistance." 

"  Gorman,  you  are  a  beast,"  said  the  old  lady;  "  and  if 
you  lived  here,  you  would  be  a  Fenian." 

*'  You  're  wrong  too,  aunt,"  replied  he.  ''I  'd  crush  those 
fellows  to-morrow  if  I  was  in  power  here." 

"  Mayhap  the  game  is  not  so  easy  as  you  deem  it,"  inter- 
posed Miller. 

"  Certainly  it  is  not  so  easy  when  played  as  you  do  it 
here.  You  deal  with  your  law-breakers  only  by  the  rule  of 
legality;  that  is  to  say,  you  respect  all  the  regulations  of 
the  game  towards  the  men  who  play  false.  You  have  your 
cumbrous  details,  and  your  lawyers  and  judges  and  juries, 
and  you  cannot  even  proclaim  a  county  in  a  state  of  siege 
without  a  bill  in  your  blessed  Parliament,  and  a  basketful 
of  balderdash  about  the  liberty  of  the  subject.  Is  it  any 
wonder  rebellion  is  a  regular  trade  with  you,  and  that  men 
who  don't  like  work  or  business  habits  take  to  it  as  a 
livelihood?" 

"  But  have  you  never  heard  Curran's  saying,  young  gentle- 
man, —  '  You  cannot  bring  an  indictment  against  a  nation '  ?  " 
said  Miller. 

"  I'd  trouble  myself  little  with  indictments,"  replied  Gor- 
man. "  I  'd  break  down  the  confederac}^  by  spies  ;  I  'd  seize 
the  fellows  I  knew  to  be  guilty,  and  hang  them." 

' '  Without  evidence,  without  trial  ?  " 

"  Very  little  of  a  trial,  when  I  had  once  satisfied  myself  of 
the  guilt." 

19 


290  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

' '  Are  you  so  certain  that  no  innocent  men  might  be 
brought  to  the  scaffold?"  asked  the  priest,  mildly. 

"  No,  I  am  not.  I  take  it,  as  the  world  goes,  veryife'w  pf 
us  go  through  life  without  some  injustice  or  another.  T'd 
do  my  best  not  to  hang  the  fellows  who  did  n't  deserve  it,  but 
I  own  I  'd  be  much  more  concerned  about  the  millions  who 
wanted  to  live  peaceably  than  the  few  hundred  rapscallions 
that  were  bent  on  troubling  tliem." 

"I  must  say,  sir,"  said  the  priest,  "I  am  much  more 
gratified  to  know  that  you  are  a  Lieutenant  of  Lancers  in 
Austria  than  a  British  Minister  in  Downing  Street." 

"I  have  little  doubt  myself,"  said  the  other,  laughing, 
''that  I  am  more  in  my  place;  but  of  this  I  am  sure,  that 
if  we  were  as  mealy-mouthed  with  our  Croats  and  Slovacks 
as  you  are  with  your  Fenians,  Austria  would  soon  go  to 
pieces." 

"  There  is,  however,  a  higher  price  on  that  man  Donogan's 
head  than  Austria  ever  offered  for  a  traitor,"  said  Miller » 

"  I  know  how  you  esteem  money  here,"  said  Gorman, 
laughing.  "  When  all  else  fails  you,  you  fall  back  upon 
it." 

''Why  did  I  know  nothing  of  these  sentiments,  young 
man,  before  I  asked  you  under  my  roof  ?  "  said  Miss  Betty, 
in  anger. 

"  You  need  never  to  have  known  them  now,  aunt,  if  these 
gentlemen  had  not  provoked  them,  nor  indeed  are  they  solely 
mine.  I  am  only  telling  you  what  you  would  hear  from  any 
intelligent  foreigner,  even  though  he  chanced  to  be  a  liberal 
in  his  own  country." 

"Ah,  yes,"  sighed  the  priest;  "what  the  young  gentle- 
man says  is  too  true.  The  Continent  is  alarmingly  in- 
fected with  such  opinions  as  these." 

' '  Have  you  talked  on  politics  with  young  Kearney  ?  " 
asked  Miller. 

"  He  has  had  no  opportunity,"  interposed  Miss  O'Shea. 
"My  nephew  will  be  three  weeks  here  on  Thursday  next, 
and  neither  Mathew  nor  his  son  have  called  on  him." 

"Scarcely  neighborlike  that,  I  must  say,"  cried  Miller. 

"I  suspect  the  fault  lies  on  my  side,"  said  Gorman, 
boldly.     "  When  I  was  little  more  than  a  boy,  I  was  never 


"O'SHEA'S  BARN."  291 

out  of  that  house.  The  old  man  treated  me  like  a  son. 
All  the  more,  perhaps,  as  his  own  son  was  seldom  at  home, 
and  the  little  girl  Kitty  certainly  regarded  me  as  a  brother ; 
and  though  we  had  our  fights  and  squabbles,  we  cried  very 
bitterly  at  parting,  and  each  of  us  vow^ed  we  should  never 
like  any  one  so  much  again.  And  now,  after  all,  here  am 
I  three  weeks,  within  two  hours'  ride  of  them,  and  my  aunt 
insists  that  my  dignity  requires  I  should  be  first  called  on. 
Confound  such  dignity,  say  I,  if  it  lose  me  the  best  and 
the  pleasantest  friends  1  ever  had  in  my  life." 

"I  scarcely  thought  of  your  dignity,  Gorman  O'Shea," 
said  the  old  lady,  bridling,  "  though  I  did  bestow  some 
consideration  on  my  own." 

"I'm  very  sorry  for  it,  aunt;  and  I  tell  you  fairly  — 
and  there  's  no  unpoliteness  in  the  confession  —  that  when 
I  asked  for  my  leave,  Kilgobbin  Castle  had  its  place  in 
my  thoughts  as  well  as  O'Shea's  Barn." 

''  Why  not  say  it  out,  young  gentleman,  and  tell  me  that 
the  real  charm  of  coming  here  was  to  be  within  twelve 
mi)es  of  the  Kearneys?" 

*'The  merits  of  this  house  are  very  independent  of  con- 
tiguity," said  the  priest;  and  as  he  eyed  the  claret  in  his 
glass,  it  was  plain  that  the  sentiment  was  an  honest  one. 

"Fifty-six  wine,  I  should  say,"  said  Miller,  as  he  laid 
down  his  glass. 

"  Forty-five,  if  Mr.  Barton  be  a  man  of  his  word,"  said 
the  old  lady,  reprovingly. 

"Ah,"  sighed  the  priest,  plaintively,  "how  rarely  one 
meets  these  old  full-bodied  clarets  nowadays!  The  free 
admission  of  French  wines  has  corrupted  taste  and  impaired 
palate.  Our  cheap  Gladstones  have  come  upon  us  like 
universal  suffrage." 

"The  masses,  however,  benefit,"  remarked  Miller. 

"  Only  in  the  first  moment  of  acquisition  and  in  the 
novelty  of  the  gain,"  continued  Father  Luke;  "and  then 
they  suffer  irreparably  in  the  loss  of  that  old  guidance, 
which  once  directed  appreciation  when  there  was  something 
to  appreciate." 

"  We  want  the  priest  again,  in  fact,"  broke  in  Gorman. 

"You  must  admit  they  understand  wine   to  perfection, 


292  LORD  KILGOBBIK 

though  I  would  humbly  hope,  young  gentleman,"  said  the 
Father,  modestly,  ^'to  engage  your  good  opinion  of  them 
on  higher  grounds." 

"Give  yourself  no  trouble  in  the  matter,  Father  Luke,'* 
broke  in  Miss  Betty.  "Gorman's  Austrian  lessons  have 
placed  him  beyond  your  teaching." 

"  My  dear  aunt,  you  are  giving  the  Imperial  Government 
a  credit  it  never  deserved.  They  taught  me  as  a  cadet 
to  groom  my  horse  and  pipeclay  my  uniform,  to  be  respect- 
ful to  my  corporal,  and  to  keep  my  thumb  on  the  seam  of 
my  trousers  when  the  captain's  eye  was  on  me ;  but  as  to 
what  passed  inside  my  mind,  if  I  had  a  mind  at  all,  or 
what  I  thought  of  Pope,  Kaiser,  or  Cardinal,  they  no  more 
cared  to  know  it  than  the  name  of  my  sweetheart." 

"  What  a  blessing  to  that  benighted  country  would  be 
one  liberal  statesman  !  "  exclaimed  Miller,  —  "  one  man  of 
the  mind  and  capacity  of  our  present  premier !  " 

"Heaven  forbid!"  cried  Gorman.  "We  have  confu- 
sion enough,  without  the  reflection  of  being  governed  by 
what  you  call  here  'healing  measures.'"         * 

"I  should  like  to  discuss  that  point  with  you,"  said 
Miller. 

"Not  now,  I  beg,"  interposed  Miss  O'Shea.  "Gorman, 
will  you  decant  another  bottle?" 

"I  believe  I  ought  to  protest  against  more  wine,"  said 
the  priest,  in  his  most  insinuating  voice;  "but  there  are 
occasions  where  the  yielding  to  temptation  conveys  a  moral 
lesson." 

"  I  suspect  that  I  cultivate  my  nature  a  good  deal  in  that 
fashion,"  said  Gorman,  as  he  opened  a  fresh  bottle. 

"This  is  perfectly  delicious,"  said  Miller,  as  he  sipped 
his  glass;  "and  if  I  could  venture  to  presume  so  far,  I 
would  ask  leave  to  propose  a  toast." 

"  You  have  my  permission,  sir,"  said  Miss  Betty,  with 
stateliness. 

"  I  drink,  then,"  said  he,  reverently,  —  "I  drink  to  the 
long  life,  the  good  health,  and  the  unbroken  courage  of 
the  Holy  Father." 

There  was  something  peculiarly  sly  in  the  twinkle  of  the 
priest's  black  eye  as  he  filled  his  bumper,  and   a  twitch- 


"O'SHEA'S  BARN."  293 

ing  motion  of  the  corner  of  his  mouth  continued   even  as 
he  said,   ''To  the  Pope." 

''  The  Pope,"  said  Gorman,  as  he  eyed  his  wine,  — 

♦'  Der  Papst  lebt  herrlich  in  der  Welt/' 

"  What  are  you  muttering  there?  "  asked  his  aunt,  fiercely. 

' '  The  line  of  an  old  song,  aunt,  that  tells  us  how  his 
Holiness  has  a  jolly  time  of  it." 

"  I  fear  me  it  must  have  been  written  in  other  days," 
said  Father  Luke. 

"There  is  no  intention  to  desert  or  abandon  him,  I 
assure  you,"  said  Miller,  addressing  him  in  a  low  but  eager 
tone.  "I  could  never — no  Irishman  could  —  ally  himself 
to  an  administration  which  should  sacrifice  the  Holy  See. 
With  the  bigotry  that  prevails  in  England,  the  question 
requires  most  delicate  handling ;  and  even  a  pledge  cannot 
be  given,  except  in  language  so  vague  and  unprecise  as  to 
admit  of  many  readings." 

"  Why  not  bring  in  a  Bill  to  give  him  a  subsidy,  a  some- 
thing per  annum,  or  a  round  sum  down?"  cried  Gorman. 

"  Mr.  Miller  has  just  shown  us  that  Exeter  Hall  might 
become  dangerous.  English  intolerance  is  not  a  thing  to 
be  rashly  aroused." 

"  If  I  had  to  deal  with  him,  I'd  do  as  Bright  proposed 
with  your  landlords  here.  I  'd  buy  him  out,  give  him  a 
handsome  sum  for  his  interest,  and  let  him  go." 

"And  how  would  you  deal  with  the  Church,  sir?"  asked 
the  priest. 

"I  have  not  thought  of  that;  but  I  suppose  one  might 
put  it  into  commission,  as  they  say,  or  manage  it  by  a 
Board,  with  a  First  Lord,  like  the  Admiralty." 

"I  will  give  you  some  tea,  gentlemen,  when  you  appear 
in  the  drawing-room,"  said  Miss  Betty,  rising  with  dignity, 
as  though  her  condescension  in  sitting  so  long  with  the 
party  had  been  ill  rewarded  by  her  nephew's  sentiments. 

The  priest,  however,  offered  his  arm,  and  the  others 
followed  as  he  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

AN  EARLY  GALLOP. 

Mathew  Kearney  had  risen  early,  an  unusual  thing  with 
him  of  late ;  but  he  had  some  intention  of  showing  his  guest 
Mr.  Walpole  over  the  farm  after  breakfast,  and  was  anxious 
to  give  some  preliminary  orders  to  have  everything  "  ship- 
shape "  for  the  inspection. 

To  make  a  very  disorderly  and  much-neglected  Irish  farm 
assume  an  air  of  discipline,  regularity,  and  neatness  at  a 
moment's  notice,  was  pretty  much  such  ai\  exploit  as  it 
would  have  been  to  muster  an  Indian  tribe,  and  pass  them 
before  some  Prussian  martinet  as  a  regiment  of  guards. 

To  make  the  ill-fenced  and  misshapen  fields  seem  trim 
paddocks,  wavering  and  serpentining  furrows  appear  straight 
and  regular  lines  of  tillage,  weed-grown  fields  look  marvels 
of  cleanliness  and  care,  while  the  lounging  and  ragged  popu- 
lation were  to  be  passed  off  as  a  thriving  and  industrious 
peasantry,  well  paid  and  contented,  were  difficulties  that  Mr. 
Kearney  did  not  propose  to  confront.  Indeed,  to  do  him 
justice,  he  thought  there  was  a  good  deal  of  pedantic  and 
"  model- farming  humbug  "  about  all  that  English  passion 
for  neatness  he  had  read  of  in  public  journals,  and  as  our 
fathers  —  better  gentlemen,  as  he  called  them,  and  more 
hospitable  fellows  than  any  of  us  —  had  got  on  without 
steam-mowing  and  threshing  and  bone-crushing,  he  thought 
we  might  farm  our  properties  without  being  either  black- 
smiths or  stokers. 

"God  help  us!"  he  would  say.  "I  suppose  we'll  be 
chewing  our  food  by  steam  one  of  these  days,  and  filling  our 
stomachs  by  hydraulic  pressure.  But  for  my  own  part,  I 
like  something  to  work  for  me  that  I  can  swear  at  when  it 
goes  wrong.     There 's  little  use  in  cursing  a  cylinder." 


AN  EARLY   GALLOP.  295 

To  have  heard  him  amongst  his  laborers  that  morning, 
it  was  plain  to  see  that  they  were  not  in  the  category  of 
machinery.  On  one  pretext  or  another,  however,  they  had 
slunk  away  one  by  one,  so  that  at  last  he  found  himself 
storming  alone  in  a  stubble-field,  with  no  other  companion 
than  one  of  Kate's  terriers.  The  sharp  barking  of  this  dog 
aroused  him  in  the  midst  of  his  imprecations,  and  looking 
over  the  dry-stone  wall  that  enclosed  the  field,  he  saw  a 
horseman  coming  along  at  a  sharp  canter,  and  taking  the 
fences  as  they  came  like  a  man  in  a  hunting-field.  He  rode 
well,  and  was  mounted  upon  a  strong  wiry  hackney,  —  a  cross- 
bred horse,  and  of  little  moneyed  value,  but  one  of  those 
active  cats  of  horseflesh  that  a  knowing  hand  can  appreciate. 
Now,  little  as  Kearney  liked  the  liberty  of  a  man  riding 
over  his  ditches  and  his  turnips,  when  out  of  hunting  season, 
his  old  love  of  good  horsemanship  made  him  watch  the  rider 
with  interest  and  even  pleasure.  "May  I  never!"  mut- 
tered he  to  himself,  "if  he  's  not  coming  at  this  wall."  And 
as  the  enclosure  in  question  was  built  of  large  jagged  stones, 
without  mortar,  and  fully  four  feet  in  height,  the  upper 
course  being  formed  of  a  sort  of  coping  in  which  the  stones 
stood  edgewise,  the  attempt  did  look  somewhat  rash.  Not 
taking  the  wall  where  it  was  slightly  breached,  and  where 
some  loose  stones  had  fallen,  the  rider  rode  boldly  at  one  of 
the  highest  portions,  but  where  the  ground  was  good  on 
either  side. 

"He  knows  what  he's  at!"  muttered  Kearney,  as  the 
horse  came  bounding  over  and  alighted  in  perfect  safety  in 
the  field. 

"  Well  done,  whoever  you  are  !  "  cried  Kearney,  delighted, 
as  the  rider  removed  his  hat  and  turned  round  to  salute 
him. 

"  And  don't  you  know  me,  sir?  "  asked  he. 

"Faith,  I  do  not,"  replied  Kearney;  "but  somehow  I 
think  I  know  the  chestnut.  To  be  sure  I  do.  There  's  the 
old  mark  on  her  knee,  how  ever  she  found  the  man  who 
could  throw  her  down.     Isn't  she  Miss  O'Shea's  Kattoo?" 

"That  she  is,  sir,  and  I'm  her  nephew." 

"  Are  you?"  said  Kearney,  dryly. 

The  j^oung  fellow  was  so  terribly  pulled  up  by  the  unex' 


296  LORD   KILGOBBm. 

pected  repulse,  more  marked  even  by  the  look  than  the 
words  of  the  other,  that  he  sat  unable  to  utter  a  syllable. 
"I  had  hoped,  sir,"  said  he  at  last,  "that  I  had  not  out- 
grown your  recollection,  as  I  can  promise  none  of  your 
former  kindness  to  me  has  outgrown  mine." 

"  But  it  took  you  three  weeks  to  recall  it,  all  the  same," 
said  Kearney. 

"It  is  true,  sir,  I  am  very  nearly  so  long  here ;  but  my 
aunt,  whose  guest  I  am,  told  me  I  must  be  called  on  first ; 
that  —  I  'm  sure  I  can't  say  for  whose  benefit  it  was  sup- 
posed to  be  —  I  should  not  make  the  first  visit;  in  fact, 
there  was  some  rule  about  the  matter,  and  that  I  must  not 
contravene  it.  And  although  I  yielded  with  a  very  bad 
grace,  I  was  in  a  measure  under  orders,  and  dared  not 
resist." 

"  She  told  you,  of  course,  that  we  were  not  on  our  old 
terms ;  that  there  was  a  coldness  between  the  families,  and 
we  had  seen  nothing  of  each  other  lately?  " 

"  Not  a  word  of  it,  sir."  * 

* '  Nor  of  any  reason  why  you  should  not  come  here  as  of 
old?" 

"None,  on  my  honor;  beyond  this  piece  of  stupid  eti- 
quette, I  never  heard  of  anything  like  a  reason." 

"  I  am  all  the  better  pleased  with  my  old  neighbor,"  said 
Kearney,  in  his  more  genial  tone.  "Not,  indeed,  that  I 
ought  ever  to  have  distrusted  her,  but  for  all  that  —  Well, 
never  mind,"  muttered  he,  as  though  debating  the  question 
with  himself,  and  unable  to  decide  it,  "  you  are  here  now  — 
eh!     You  are  here  now." 

"  You  almost  make  me  suspect,  sir,  that  I  ought  not  to  be 
here  now." 

"  At  all  events,  if  you  were  waiting  for  me  you  would  n't 
be  here.     Is  not  that  true,  young  gentleman?" 

"  Quite  true,  sir,  but  not  impossible  to  explain."  And  he 
now  flung  himself  to  the  ground,  and  with  the  rein  over  his 
arm,  came  up  to  Kearney's  side.  "  I  suppose,  but  for  an 
accident,  I  should  have  gone  on  waiting  for  that  visit  you 
had  no  intention  to  make  me,  and  canvassing  with  myself 
how  long  you  were  taking  to  make  up  your  mind  to  call  on 
me,  when  I  heard  only  last  night  that  some  noted  rebel  —  I  '11 


AN  p:arly  gallop.  297 

remember  his  name  in  a  minute  or  two  —  was  seen  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  that  the  police  were  on  his  track  with  a 
warrant,  and  even  intended  to  search  for  him  here." 

"  In  my  house,  — in  Kilgobbin  Castle?  " 

"  Yes,  here  in  your  house,  where,  from  a  sure  information, 
he  had  been  harbored  for  some  days.  This  fellow  —  a 
Head-Centre,  or  leader,  with  a  large  sum  on  his  head  —  has, 
they  say,  got  away;  but  the  hope  of  finding  some  papers, 
some  clew  to  him  here,  will  certainly  lead  them  to  search  the 
castle,  and  I  thought  I  'd  come  over  and  apprise  you  of  it  at 
all  events,  lest  the  surprise  should  prove  too  much  for  your 
temper." 

"Do  they  forget  I'm  in  the  commission  of  the  peace?'* 
said  Kearney,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  passion. 

"  You  know  far  better  than  me  how  far  party  spirit  tempera 
life  in  this  country,  and  are  better  able  to  say  whether  some 
private  intention  to  insult  is  couched  under  this  attempt." 

"That's  true,"  cried  the  old  man,  ever  ready  to  regard 
himself  as  the  object  of  some  secret  malevolence.  "  You 
cannot  remember  this  rebel's  name,  can  you?" 

"  It  was  Daniel  something,  — that 's  all  I  know." 

A  long,  fine  whistle  was  Kearney's  rejoinder,  and  after  a 
second  or  two  he  said:  "I  can  trust  you,  Gorman;  and  I 
may  tell  you  they  may  be  not  so  great  fools  as  I  took  them 
for.  Not  that  I  was  harboring  the  fellow,  mind  you;  but 
there  came  a  college  friend  of  Dick's  here  a  few  days  back, 
—  a  clever  fellow  he  was,  and  knew  Ireland  well,  —  and  we 
called  him  Mr.  Daniel,  and  it  was  but  yesterday  he  left  us 
and  did  not  return.  I  have  a  notion  now  he  was  the  Head- 
Centre  they  're  looking  for." 

"  Do  you  know  if  he  has  left  any  baggage  or  papers  behind 
him?" 

"  I  know  nothing  about  this  whatever,  nor  do  I  know 
how  far  Dick  was  in  his  secret." 

"  You  will  be  cool  and  collected,  I  am  sure,  sir,  when  they 
come  here  with  the  search-warrant.  You  '11  not  give  them 
even  the  passing  triumph  of  seeing  that  you  are  annoyed  or 
offended?" 

"  That  I  will,  my  lad.  I'm  prepared  now,  and  I'll  take 
them  as  easy  as  if  it  was  a  morning  call.     Come  in  and  have 


298  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

your  breakfast  with  us,  and  say  nothing  about  what  we've 
been  talking  over." 

"Many  thanks,  sir,  but  I  think  —  indeed,  I  feel  sure  —  I 
ought  to  go  back  at  once.  I  have  come  here  without  my 
aunt's  knowledge,  and  now  that  I  have  seen  you  and  put  you 
on  your  guard,  I  ought  to  get  back  as  fast  as  I  can." 

"  So  you  shall  when  you  feed  your  beast  and  take  some- 
thing yourself.  Poor  old  Kattoo  is  n't  used  to  this  sort  of 
cross-country  work,  and  she  's  panting  there  badly  enough. 
That  mare  is  twenty-one  years  of  age." 

"  She  's  fresh  on  her  legs,  —  not  a  curb,  nor  a  spavin,  nor 
even  a  wind-gall  about  her,"  said  the  young  man. 

"And  the  reward  for  it  all  is  to  be  ridden  like  a  steeple- 
chaser !  "  sighed  old  Kearney.  "  Is  n't  that  the  world  over? 
Break  down  early,  and  you  are  a  good-for-nothing.  Carry 
on  your  spirit  and  your  pluck  and  your  endurance  to  a  green 
old  age,  and  maybe  they  won't  take  it  out  of  you  !  —  always 
contrasting  you,  however,  with  yourself  long  ago,  and  tell- 
ing the  bystanders  what  a  rare  beast  you  were  in  your  good 
days.  Do  you  think  they  had  dared  to  pass  this  insult  upon 
me  when  I  was  five-and-twenty  or  thirty?  Do  you  think 
there 's  a  man  in  the  county  would  have  come  on  this  errand 
to  search  Kilgobbin  when  I  was  a  young  man,  Mr.  O'Shea?  " 

"  I  think  you  can  afford  to  treat  it  with  the  contempt  you 
have  determined  to  show  it." 

"That's  all  very  fine  now,"  said  Kearney;  "but  there 
was  a  time  I  'd  rather  have  chucked  the  chief  constable  out 
of  the  window,  and  sent  the  sergeant  after  him." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  that  would  have  been  better," 
said  Gorman,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  Neither  do  I ;  but  I  know  that  I  myself  would  have  felt 
better  and  easier  in  my  mind  after  it.  I  'd  have  eaten  my 
breakfast  with  a  good  appetite,  and  gone  about  my  day's 
work,  whatever  it  was,  with  a  free  heart  and  fearless  in  my 
conscience!  Ay,  ay,"  muttered  he  to  himself,  "poor  old 
Ireland  is  n't  what  it  used  to  be  I  " 

"  I  'm  very  sorry,  sir,  but  though  I  'd  like  immensely  to  go 
back  with  you,  don't  you  think  I  ought  to  return  home  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  anything  of  the  sort.  Your  aunt  and  I 
had  a  tiff  the  last  time  we  met,  and  that  was  some  months 


AN   EARLY   GALLOP.  299 

ago.  We  're  both  of  us  old  and  cross-grained  enough  to 
keep  up  the  grudge  for  the  rest  of  our  lives.  Let  us,  then, 
make  the  most  of  the  accident  that  has  led  you  here,  and 
when  you  go  home  you  shall  be  the  bearer  of  the  most  sub- 
missive message  I  can  invent  to  my  old  friend,  and  there 
shall  be  no  terms  too  humble  for  me  to  ask  her  pardon." 

"  That 's  enough,  sir.     I  '11  breakfast  here." 

"  Of  course  you'll  say  nothing  of  what  brought  you  over 
here.  But  I  ought  to  warn  you  not  to  drop  anything  care- 
lessly about  politics  in  the  county  generally,  for  we  have  a 
young  relative  and  a  private  secretary  of  the  Lord  Lieutenant's 
visiting  us,  and  it 's  as  well  to  be  cautious  before  him." 

The  old  man  mentioned  this  circumstance  in  the  cursory 
tone  of  an  ordinary  remark,  but  he  could  not  conceal  the 
pride  he  felt  in  the  rank  and  condition  of  his  guest.  As  for 
Gorman,  perhaps  it  was  his  foreign  breeding,  perhaps  his 
ignorance  of  all  home  matters  generally,  but  he  simply 
assented  to  the  force  of  the  caution,  and  paid  no  other  atten- 
tion to  the  incident. 

"  His  name  is  Walpole,  and  he  is  related  to  half  the  peer- 
age," said  the  old  man,  with  some  irritation  of  manner. 

A  mere  nod  acknowledged  the  information,  and  he  went 
on  :  — 

''  This  was  the  young  fellow  who  was  with  Kitty  on  the 
night  they  attacked  the  castle,  and  he  got  both  bones  of  his 
forearm  smashed  with  a  shot.'* 

"  An  ugly  wound,"  was  the  only  rejoinder. 

"So  it  was,  and  for  a  while  they  thought  he  'd  lose  the 
arm.  Kitty  says  he  behaved  beautifully,  cool  and  steady  all 
through." 

Another  nod,  but  this  time  Gorman's  lips  were  firmly 
compressed. 

"  There  's  no  denying  it,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  touch 
of  sadness  in  his  voice,  —  ''  there  's  no  denying  it,  the  Eng- 
lish have  courage  ;  though,"  added  he  afterwards,  "it's  in  a 
cold,  sluggish  way  of  their  own,  which  we  don't  like  here. 
There  he  is  now,  that  young  fellow  that  has  just  parted  from 
the  two  girls.  The  tall  one  is  my  niece,  —  I  must  present 
you  to  her." 


CHAPTER  XL. 

OLD    MEMORIES. 

Though  both  Kate  Kearney  and  young  O'Shea  had  greatly 
outgrown  each  other's  recollection,  there  were  still  traits  of 
feature  remaining,  and  certain  tones  of  voice,  by  which  they 
were  carried  back  to  old  times  and  old  associations. 

Amongst  the  strange  situations  in  life,  there  are  few 
stranger,  or,  in  certain  respects,  more  painful,  than  the 
meeting  after  long  absence  of  those  who,  when  they  had 
parted  years  before,  were  on  terms  of  closest  intimacy,  and 
who  now  see  each  other  changed  by  time,  with  altered  habits 
and  manners,  and  impressed  in  a  variety  of  ways  with  in- 
fluences and  associations  which  impart  their  own  stamp  on 
character. 

It  is  very  difficult  at  such  moments  to  remember  how  far 
we  ourselves  have  changed  in  the  interval,  and  how  much  of 
what  we  regard  as  altered  in  another  may  not  simply  be  the 
new  standpoint  from  which  we  are  looking,  and  thus  our 
friend  may  be  graver  or  sadder  or  more  thoughtful,  or,  as 
it  may  happen,  seem  less  reflective  and  less  considerative 
than  we  have  thought  him,  all  because  the  world  has  been 
meantime  dealing  with  ourselves  in  such  wise  that  qualities 
we  once  cared  for  have  lost  much  of  their  value,  and  others 
that  we  had  deemed  of  slight  account  have  grown  into  im- 
portance with  us. 

Most  of  us  know  the  painful  disappointment  of  revisiting 
scenes  which  had  impressed  us  strongly  in  early  life :  how 
the  mountain  we  regarded  with  a  wondering  admiration  had 
become  a  mere  hill,  and  the  romantic  tarn  a  pool  of  sluggish 
water ;  and  some  of  this  same  awakening  pursues  us  in  our 
renewal  of  old  intimacies,  and  we  find  ourselves  continually 
warring-  with  our  recollections. 


OLD   MEMOKIES.  301 

Besides  this,  there  is  another  source  of  uneasiness  that 
presses  unceasingly.  It  is  in  imputing  every  change  we  dis- 
cover, or  think  we  discover  in  our  friend,  to  some  unknown 
influences  that  have  asserted  their  power  over  him  in  our 
absence,  and  thus  when  we  find  that  our  arguments  have  lost 
their  old  force,  and  our  persuasions  can  be  stoutly  resisted, 
we  begin  to  think  that  some  other  must  have  usurped  our 
place,  and  that  there  is  treason  in  the  heart  we  had  deemed 
to  be  loyally  our  own. 

How  far  Kate  and  Gorman  suffered  under  these  irritations, 
I  do  not  stop  to  inquire ;  but  certain  it  is,  that  all  their  re- 
newed intercourse  was  little  other  than  snappish  reminders 
of  unfavorable  change  in  each,  and  assurances  more  frank 
than  flattering  that  they  had  not  improved  in  the  interval. 

"  How  well  I  know  every  tree  and  alley  of  this  old  gar- 
den !  "  said  he,  as  they  strolled  along  one  of  the  walks  in 
advance  of  the  others.  "  Nothing  ie  changed  here  but  the 
people." 

"  And  do  you  think  we  are?  "  asked  she,  quietly. 

"  I  should  think  I  do !  Not  so  much  for  your  father,  per- 
haps. I  suppose  men  of  his  time  of  life  change  little,  if  at 
all ;  but  you  are  as  ceremonious  as  if  I  had  been  introduced 
to  you  this  morning." 

' '  You  addressed  me  so  deferentially  as  Miss  Kearney,  and 
with  such  an  assuring  little  intimation  that  you  were  not 
either  very  certain  of  that^  that  I  should  have  been  very 
courageous  indeed  to  remind  you  that  I  once  was  Kate." 

"  No,  not  Kate,  —  Kitty,"  rejoined  he,  quickly. 

''Oh,  yes,  perhaps,  when  you  were  young,  but  we  grew 
out  of  that." 

"Did  we?-    And  when?" 

"  When  we  gave  up  climbing  cherry-trees,  and  ceased  to 
pull  each  other's  hair  when  we  were  angry." 

"  Oh  dear! "  said  he,  drearily,  as  his  head  sunk  heavily. 

"  You  seem  to  sigh  over  those  blissful  times,  Mr.  O'Shea,'' 
said  she,  "as  if  they  were  terribly  to  be  regretted." 

"  So  they  are.     So  I  feel  them." 

"  I  never  knew  before  that  quarrelling  left  such  pleasant 
associations." 

"  My  memory  is  good  enough  to  remember  times  when  we 


302  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

were  not  quarrelling, —  when  I  used  to  think  you  were  nearer 
an  angel  than  a  human  creature,  —  ay,  when  I  have  had  the 
boldness  to  tell  you  so." 

"You  don't  mean  that?'' 

"I  do  mean  it,  and  I  should  like  to  know  why  I  should 
not  mean  it?" 

"  For  a  great  many  reasons,  —  one  amongst  the  number, 
that  it  would  have  been  highly  indiscreet  to  turn  a  poor 
child's  head  with  a  stupid  flattery." 

"But  were  you  a  child?  If  I  'm  right,  you  were  not  very 
far  from  fifteen  at  the  time  I  speak  of." 

"How  shocking  that  you  should  remember  a  young  lady's 
age!" 

"That  is  not  the  point  at  all,"  said  he,  as  though  she  had 
been  endeavoring  to  introduce  another  issue. 

"  And  what  is  the  point,  pray  ?  "  asked  she,  haughtily. 

"Well,  it  is  this,  — Jiow  many  have  uttered  what  you  call 
stupid  flatteries  since  that  time,  and  how  have  they  been 
taken." 

"Is  this  a  question?"  asked  she.  "I  mean  a  question 
seeking  to  be  answered  ?  " 

"I  hope  so." 

"Assuredly,  then,  Mr.  O'Shea,  however  time  has  been 
dealing  with  me,  it  has  contrived  to  take  marvellous  liber- 
ties with  you  since  we  met.  Do  you  know,  sir,  that  this  is 
a  speech  you  would  not  have  uttered  long  ago  for  worlds  ?  " 

"If  I  have  forgotten  myself  as  well  as  you,"  said  he,  with 
deep  humility,  "I  very  humbly  crave  pardon.  Not  but 
there  were  days,"  added  he,  "when  my  mistake,  if  I  made 
one,  would  have  been  forgiven  without  my  asking." 

"There  's  a  slight  touch  of  presumption,  sir,  in  telling  me 
what  a  wonderful  person  I  used  to  think  you  long  ago." 

"So  you  did,"  cried  he,  eagerly.  "In  return  for  the 
homage  I  laid  at  your  feet,  as  honest  an  adoration  as  ever 
a  heart  beat  with,  you  condescended  to  let  me  build  my 
ambitions  before  you,  and  I  must  own  you  made  the  edifice 
very  dear  to  me." 

"To  be  sure,  I  do  remember  it  all,  and  I  used  to  play  or 
sing,  '  Mein  Schatz  ist  ein  Reiter,'  and  take  your  word  that 
you  were  going  to  be  a  Lancer  — 


OLD  MEMORIES.  303 

'  In  file  arrayed, 
With  helm  and  blade, 
And  plume  in  the  gay  wind  dancing.' 

I  'm  certain  my  cousin  would  be  charmed  to  see  you  in  all 
your  bravery." 

"Your  cousin  will  not  speak  to  me  for  being  an 
Austrian. " 

"Has  she  told  you  so?  " 

"Yes;  she  said  it  at  breakfast." 

"That  denunciation  does  not  sound  very  dangerously;  is 
it  not  worth  your  while  to  struggle  against  a  miscon- 
ception? " 

"I  have  had  such  luck  in  my  present  attempt  as  should 
scarcely  raise  my  courage." 

"You  are  too  ingenious  by  far  for  me,  Mr.  O'Shea,"  said 
she,  carelessly.  "I  neither  remember  so  well  as  you,  nor 
have  I  that  nice  subtlety  in  detecting  all  the  lapses  each  of 
us  has  made  since  long  ago.  Try,  however,  if  you  cannot 
get  on  better  with  Mademoiselle  Kostalergi,  where  there 
are  no  antecedents  to  disturb  you." 

"I  will;  that  is,  if  she  let  me." 

"I  trust  she  may,  and  not  the  less  willingly,  perhaps,  as 
she  evidently  will  not  speak  to  Mr.  Walpole." 

"Ah,  indeed,  and  is  he  here?  "  He  stopped  and  hesitated ; 
and  the  full,  bold  look  she  gave  him  did  not  lessen  his 
embarrassment. 

"Well,  sir,"  asked  she,  "go  on.  Is  this  another 
reminiscence  ?  " 

"No,  Miss  Kearney;  I  was  only  thinking  of  asking  you 
who  this  Mr.  Walpole  was." 

"Mr.  Cecil  Walpole  is  a  nephew  or  a  something  to  the 
Lord  Lieutenant,  whose  private  secretary  he  is.  He  is  very 
clever,  very  amusing,  —  sings,  draws,  rides,  and  laughs  at 
the  Irish  to  perfection.     I  hope  you  mean  to  like  him." 

"Do  you?" 

"Of  course,  or  I  should  not  have  bespoken  your  sym- 
pathy. My  cousin  used  to  like  him,  but  somehow  he  has 
fallen  out  of  favor  with  her." 

"Was    he   absent   some   time?"  asked  he,  with  a  half- 


304  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"Yes,  I  believe  there  was  something  of  that  in  it.  He 
was  not  here  for  a  considerable  time ;  and  when  we  saw  him 
again,  we  almost  owned  we  were  disappointed.  Papa  is 
calling  me  from  the  window;  pray  excuse  me  for  a 
moment."  She  left  him  as  she  spoke,  and  ran  rapidly 
back  to  the  house,  whence  she  returned  almost  immedi- 
ately. "It  was  to  ask  you  to  stop  and  dine  here,  Mr. 
O'Shea,"  said  she.  "There  will  be  ample  time  to  send  back 
to  Miss  O'Shea,  and  if  you  care  to  have  your  dinner-dress, 
they  can  send  it." 

"This  is  Mr.  Kearney's  invitation?"  asked  he. 

"Of  course;  papa  is  the  master  at  Kilgobbin." 

"But  will  Miss  Kearney  condescend  to  say  that  it  is  hers 
also?" 

"Certainly;  though  I'm  not  aware  what  solemnity  the 
engagement  gains  by  my  co-operation." 

"I  accept  at  once;  and  if  you  allow  me,  I  '11  go  back  and 
send  a  line  to  my  aunt  to  say  so." 

"Don't  you  remember  Mr.  O'Shea,  Dick?"  asked  she, 
as  her  brother  lounged  up,  making  his  first  appearance  that 
day. 

"I'd  never  have  known  you,"  said  he,  surveying  him 
from  head  to  foot,  without,  however,  any  mark  of  cor- 
diality in  the  recognition. 

"All  find  me  a  good  deal  changed!"  said  the  young 
fellow,  drawing  himself  to  his  full  height,  and  with  an  air 
that  seemed  to  say,  "and  none  the  worse  for  it." 

"I  used  to  fancy  I  was  more  than  your  match,"  rejoined 
Dick,  smiling;  "I  suspect  it 's  a  mistake  I  am  little  likely 
to  incur  again." 

"Don't,  Dick,  for  he  has  got  a  very  ugly  way  of  ridding 
people  of  their  illusions,"  said  Kate,  as  she  turned  once 
more  and  walked  rapidly  towards  the  house. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

TWO    FAMILIAR    EPISTLES. 

There  were  a  number  of  bolder  achievements  Gorman 
O'Shea  would  have  dared  rather  than  write  a  note;  nor 
were  the  cares  of  the  composition  the  only  difficulties  of  the 
undertaking.     He  knew  of  but  one  style  of  correspondence, 

—  the  report  to  his  commanding  officer,  —  and  in  this  he 
was  aided  by  a  formula  to  be  filled  up.  It  was  not,  then, 
till  after  several  efforts,  he  succeeded  in  the  following 
familiar  epistle:  — 

"  KiLGOBBiN  Castle. 
"  Dear  Aunt,  —  Don't  blow  up  or  make  a  rumpus,  but  if  I  had 
not  taken  the  mare  and  come  over  here  this  morning,  the  rascally 
police  with  their  search-warrant  might  have  been  down  upon  Mr. 
Kearney  without  a  warning.  They  were  all  stiff  and  cold  enough  at 
first ;  they  are  nothing  to  brag  of  in  the  way  of  cordiality  even  yet, 

—  Dick  especially,  —  but  they  have  asked  me  to  stay  and  dine,  and 
I  take  it,  it  is  the  right  thing  to  do.  Send  me  over  some  things  to 
dress  with  —  and  believe  me 

"  Your  affectionate  nephew, 

"  G.  O'Shea. 

"  I  send  the  mare  back,  and  shall  walk  home  to-morrow  morning. 
"  There's  a  great  Castle  swell  here,  a  Mr.  Walpole,  but"  I  have 
not  made  his  acquaintance  yet,  and  can  tell  nothing  about  him." 

Towards  a  late  hour  of  the  afternoon  a  messenger  arrived 
with  an  ass-cart  and  several  trunks  from  O' Shea's  Barn, 
and  with  the  following  note :  — 

"  Dear  Nephew  Gorman,  —  O'Shea's  Barn  is  not  an  inn,  nor 
are  the  horses  there  at  public  livery.  So  much  for  your  information. 
As  you  seem  fond  of  'warnings,'  let  me  give  you  one,  which  is, 
To  mind  your  own  affairs  in  preference  to  the  interests  of  other 
people.     The  family  at  Kilgobbin  are  perfectly  welcome  —  so  far 

20 


306  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

as  I  am  concerned  —  to  the  fascinations  of  your  society  at  dinner 
to-day,  at  breakfast  to-morrow,  and  so  on,  with  such  regularity  and 
order  as  the  meals  succeed.  To  which  end,  I  have  now  sent  you  all 
the  luggage  belonging  to  you  here. 

"  I  am  very  respectfully,  your  aunt, 

"Elizabeth   O'Shea." 

The  quaint,  old-fashioned,  rugged  writing  was  marked 
throughout  by  a  certain  distinctness  and  accuracy  that 
betokened  care  and  attention ;  there  was  no  evidence  what- 
ever of  haste  or  passion,  and  this  expression  of  a  serious 
determination,  duly  weighed  and  resolved  on,  made  itself 
very  painfully  felt  by  the  young  man  as  he  read. 

"I  am  turned  out,  — in  plain  words,  turned  out!"  said 
he  aloud,  as  he  sat  with  the  letter  spread  out  before  him. 
"It  must  have  been  no  common  quarrel  —  not  a  mere  cold- 
ness between  the  families  —  when  she  resents  my  coming 
here  in  this  fashion."  That  innumerable  differences  could 
separate  neighbors  in  Ireland,  even  persons  with  the  same 
interests  and  the  same  religion,  he  well  knew,  and  he  sol- 
aced himself  to  think  how  he  could  get  at  the  source  of 
this  disagreement,  and  what  chance  there  might  be  of  a 
reconciliation. 

Of  one  thing  he  felt  certain.  Whether  his  aunt  were 
right  or  wrong,  whether  tyrant  or  victim,  he  knew  in  his 
heart  all  the  submission  must  come  from  the  others.  He 
had  only  to  remember  a  few  of  the  occasions  in  life  in  which 
he  had  to  entreat  his  aunt's  forgiveness  for  the  injustice  she 
had  herself  inflicted,  to  anticipate  what  humble  pie  Mathew 
Kearney  must  partake  of  in  order  to  conciliate  Miss  Betty's 
favor. 

"Meanwhile,"  he  thought,  and  not  only  thought,  but  said 
too,  — "meanwhile  I  am  on  the  world." 

Up  to  this,  she  had  allowed  him  a  small  yearly  income. 
Father  Luke,  whose  judgment  on  all  things  relating  to  Con- 
tinental life  was  unimpeachable,  had  told  her  that  any- 
thing like  the  reputation  of  being  well  off  or  connected  with 
wealthy  people  would  lead  a  young  man  into  ruin  in  the 
Austrian  service;  that  with  a  sum  of  three  thousand  francs 
per  annum  —  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  —  he 
would  be  in  possession  of  something  like  the  double  of  his 


TWO  FAMILIAR  EPISTLES.  307 

pay,  or  rather  more,  and  that  with  this  he  would  be  enabled 
to  have  all  the  necessaries  and  many  of  the  comforts  of 
his  station,  and  still  not  be  a  mark  for  that  high  play  and 
reckless  style  of  living  that  certain  young  Hungarians  of 
family  and  large  fortune  affected ;  and  so  far  the  priest  was 
correct,  for  the  young  Gorman  was  wasteful  and  extravagant 
from  disposition,  and  his  quarter's  allowance  disappeared 
almost  when  it  came.  His  money  out,  he  fell  back  at  once 
to  the  penurious  habits  of  the  poorest  subaltern  about  him, 
and  lived  on  his  florin-and-half  per  diem  till  his  resources 
came  round  again.  He  hoped  —  of  course  he  hoped  —  that 
this  momentary  fit  of  temper  would  not  extend  to  stopping 
his  allowance. 

"She  knows  as  well  as  any  one,"  muttered  he,  "that 
though  the  baker's  son  from  Prague  or  the  Amtmann's 
nephew  from  a  Bavarian  Dorf  may  manage  to  '  come  through  ' 
with  his  pay,  the  young  Englishman  cannot.  I  can  neither 
piece  my  own  overalls,  nor  forswear  stockings;  nor  can  I 
persuade  my  stomach  that  it  has  had  a  full  meal  by  tighten- 
ing my  girth-strap  three  or  four  holes. 

"I  'd  go  down  to  the  ranks  to-morrow  rather  than  live 
that  life  of  struggle  and  contrivance  that  reduces  a  man  to 
playing  a  dreary  game  with  himself,  by  which,  while  he 
feels  like  a  pauper,  he  has  to  fancy  he  felt  like  a  gentle- 
man. No,  no,  I  '11  none  of  this.  Scores  of  better  men  have 
served  in  the  ranks.  I  '11  just  change  my  regiment.  By  a 
lucky  chance,  I  don't  know  a  man  in  the  Walmoden  Cuiras- 
siers.    I  '11  join  them,  and  nobody  will  ever  be  the  wiser.'' 

There  is  a  class  of  men  who  go  through  life  building  very 
small  castles,  and  are  no  more  discouraged  by  the  frailty 
of  the  architecture  than  is  a  child  with  his  toy-house.  This 
was  Gorman's  case;  and  now  that  he  had  found  a  solution 
of  his  difficulties  in  the  Walmoden  Cuirassiers,  he  really 
dressed  for  dinner  in  very  tolerable  spirits.  "It 's  droll 
enough,"  thought  he,  "to  go  down  to  dine  amongst  all  these 
'  swells,'  and  to  think  that  the  fellow  behind  my  chair  is 
better  off  than  myself."  The  very  uncertainty  of  his  fate 
supplied  excitement  to  his  spirits,  for  it  is  amongst  the 
privileges  of  the  j'oung  that  mere  flurry  can  be  pleasurable. 

When  Gorman  reached  the  drawing-room,  he  found  only 


308  LORD  KILGOBBm. 

one  person.  This  was  a  young  man  in  a  shooting-coat, 
who,  deep  in  the  recess  of  a  comfortable  arm-chair,  sat  with 
the  "  Times  "  at  his  feet,  and  to  all  appearance  as  if  half 
dozing. 

He  looked  around,  however,  as  young  O'Shea  came  for- 
ward, and  said  carelessly,  "I  suppose  it's  time  to  go  and 
dress,  —  if  I  could." 

O'Shea  making  no  reply,  the  other  added,  "That  is,  if  I 
have  not  overslept  dinner  altogether." 

"I  hope  not,  sincerely,"  rejoined  the  other,  "or  I  shall 
be  a  partner  in  the  misfortune." 

"Ah,  you  're  the  Austrian,"  said  Walpole,  as  he  stuck  his 
glass  in  his  eye  and  surveyed  him. 

"Yes;  and  you  are  the  private  secretary  of  the  Governor." 

"Only  we  don't  call  him  Governor.  We  say  Viceroy 
here." 

"With  all  my  heart,  Viceroy  be  it." 

There  was  a  pause  now;  each,  as  it  were,  standing  on 
his  guard  to  resent  any  liberty  of  the  other.  At  last  Wal- 
pole said,  "I  don't  think  you  were  in  the  house  when  that 
stupid  stipendiary  fellow  called  here  this  morning?" 

"No;  I  was  strolling  across  the  fields.  He  came  with  the 
police,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  came  on  the  track  of  some  Fenian  leader,  — a 
droll  thought  enough  anywhere  out  of  Ireland,  to  search 
for  a  rebel  under  a  magistrate's  roof;  not  but  there  was 
something  still  more  Irish  in  the  incident." 

"How  was  that?"  asked  O'Shea,  eagerly. 

"I  chanced  to  be  out  walking  with  the  ladies  when  the 
escort  came ;  and  as  they  failed  to  find  the  man  they  were 
after,  they  proceeded  to  make  diligent  search  for  his  papers 
and  letters.  That  taste  for  practical  joking  that  seems  an 
instinct  in  this  country  suggested  to  Mr.  Kearney  to  direct 
the  fellows  to  my  room,  and  what  do  you  think  they  have 
done?  Carried  off  bodily  all  my  baggage,  and  left  me  with 
nothing  but  the  clothes  I  'm  wearing !  " 

"What  a  lark!"  cried  O'Shea,  laughing. 

"Yes,  I  take  it  that  is  the  national  way  to  look  at  these 
things;  but  that  passion  for  absurdity  and  for  ludicrous 
situations  has  not  the  same  hold  on  us  English." 


TWO  FAMILIAR  EPISTLES.  309 

"I  know  that.     You  are  too  well  off  to  be  droll.'' 

*'Not  exactly  that;  but  when  we  want  to  laugh  we  go  to 
the  Adelphi." 

"Heaven  help  you  if  you  have  to  pay  people  to  make  fun 
for  you ! " 

Before  Walpole  could  make  rejoinder,  the  door  opened  to 
admit  the  ladies,  closely  followed  by  Mr.  Kearney  and 
Dick. 

"  Not  mine  the  fault  if  I  disgrace  your  dinner-table  by 
such  a  costume  as  this,"  cried  Walpole. 

"  I  'd  have  given  twenty  pounds  if  they  'd  have  carried  off 
yourself  as  the  rebel !  "  said  the  old  man,  shaking  with 
laughter.  "But  there's  the  soup  on  the  table.  Take  my 
niece,  Mr.  Walpole;  Gorman,  give  your  arm  to  my  daugh- 
ter.    Dick  and  I  will  bring  up  the  rear." 


CHAPTER  XLir. 

AN   EVENING    IN    THE    DRAWING-ROOM. 

The  fatalism  of  youth,  unlike  that  of  age,  is  all  rose- 
colored.  That  which  is  coming,  and  is  decreed  to  come, 
cannot  be  very  disagreeable.  This  is  the  theory  of  the 
young,  and  differs  terribly  from  the  experiences  of  after- 
life. Gorman  O'Shea  had  gone  to  dinner  with  about  as 
heavy  a  misfortune  as  could  well  befall  him,  so  far  as  his 
future  in  life  was  concerned.  All  he  looked  forward  to  and 
hoped  for  was  lost  to  him.  The  aunt,  who  for  so  many 
years  had  stood  to  him  in  place  of  all  family,  had  suddenly 
thrown  him  off,  and  declared  that  she  would  see  him  no 
more ;  the  allowance  she  had  hitherto  given  him  withdrawn, 
it  was  impossible  he  could  continue  to  hold  his  place  in  his 
regiment.  Should  he  determine  not  to  return,  it  was  deser- 
tion ;  should  he  go  back,  it  must  be  to  declare  that  he  was  a 
ruined  man,  and  could  only  serve  in  the  ranks.  These 
were  the  thoughts  he  revolved  while  he  dressed  for  dinner, 
and  dressed,  let  it  be  owned,  with  peculiar  care ;  but  when 
the  task  had  been  accomplished,  and  he  descended  to  the 
drawing-room,  such  was  the  elasticity  of  his  young  temper- 
ament, every  thought  of  coming  evil  was  merged  in  the 
sense  of  present  enjoyment,  and  the  merry  laughter  which 
he  overheard  as  he  opened  the  door  obliterated  all  notion 
that  life  had  anything  before  him  except  what  was  agreeable 
and  pleasant. 

"We  want  to  know  if  you  play  croquet,  Mr.  O'Shea?" 
said  Nina,  as  he  entered.  "And  we  want  also  to  know, 
are  you  a  captain,  or  a  Ritt-Meister,  or  a  major?  You  can 
scarcely  be  a  colonel." 

"Your  last  guess  I  answer  first.  I  am  only  a  lieutenant, 
and  even  that  very  lately.  As  to  croquet,  if  it  be  not  your 
foreign  mode  of  pronouncing  cricket,  I  never  even  saw  it." 


AN  EVENING  IN  THE   DRAWING-ROOM.  311 

*'  It  is  not  my  foreign  mode  of  pronouncing  cricket,  Herr 
Lieutenant,"  said  she,  pertly;  "but  I  guessed  already  you 
had  never  heard  of  it." 

"It  is  an  out-of-door  affair,"  said  Dick,  indolently, 
"made  for  the  diffusion  of  worked  petticoats  and  Balmoral 
boots." 

"I  should  say  it  is  the  game  of  billiards  brought  down  to 
universal  suffrage  and  the  million,"  lisped  out  Walpole. 

"Faith,"  cried  old  Kearney,  "I  'd  say  it  was  just  football 
with  a  stick." 

"At  all  events,"  said  Kate,  "we  purpose  to  have  a  grand 
match  to-morrow.  Mr.  Walpole  and  I  are  against  Nina  and 
Dick,  and  we  are  to  draw  lots  for  you,  Mr.  O'Shea." 

"My  position,  if  I  understand  it  aright,  is  not  a  flattering 
one,"  said  he,  laughing. 

"We  '11  take  him,"  cried  Nina,  at  once.  "I  '11  give  him 
a  private  lesson  in  the  morning,  and  I  '11  answer  for  his 
performance.  These  creatures,"  added  she  in  a  whisper, 
"are  so  drilled  in  Austria  you. can  teach  them  anything." 

Now,  as  the  words  were  spoken,  Gorman  caught  them, 
and  drawing  close  to  her,  "I  do  hope  I  '11  justify  that  flat- 
tering opinion."  But  her  only  recognition  was  a  look  of 
half-defiant  astonishment  at  his  boldness. 

A  very  noisy  discussion  now  ensued  as  to  whether  croquet 
was  worthy  to  be  called  a  game  or  not,  and  what  were  its 
laws  and  rules,  —  points  which  Gorman  followed  with  due 
attention,  but  very  little  profit;  all  Kate's  good  sense  and 
clearness  being  cruelly  dashed  by  Nina's  ingenious  interrup- 
tions, and  Walpole' s  attempts  to  be  smart  and  witty,  even 
where  opportunity  scarcely  offered  the  chance. 

"Next  to  looking  on  at  the  game,"  cried  old  Kearney,  at 
last,  "the  most  tiresome  thing  I  know  of  is  to  hear  it  talked 
over.     Come,  Nina,  and  give  me  a  song." 

"What  shall  it  be,  uncle?"  said  she,  as  she  opened  the 
piano. 

"Something  Irish,  I'd  say,  if  I  were  to  choose  for  my- 
self. We  've  plenty  of  old  tunes,  Mr.  Walpole,"  said  Kear- 
ney, turning  to  that  gentleman,  "that  rebellion,  as  you  call 
it,  has  never  got  hold  of.  There  's  '  Cushla  Macree  '  and 
the  '  Cailan  deas  cruidhte  na  Mbo.' " 


312  LOKD  KILGOBBIN. 

"Very  like  hard  swearing  that,"  said  Walpole  to  Nina; 
but  his  simper  and  his  soft  accent  were  only  met  by  a  cold 
blank  look,  as  though  she  had  not  understood  his  liberty  in 
addressing  her.  Indeed,  in  her  distant  manner  and  even 
repelling  coldness,  there  was  what  might  have  disconcerted 
any  composure  less  consummate  than  his  own.  It  was, 
however,  evidently  Walpole 's  aim  to  assume  that  she  felt 
her  relation  towards  him,  and  not  altogether  without  some 
cause ;  while  she,  on  her  part,  desired  to  repel  the  insinua- 
tion by  a  show  of  utter  indifference.  She  would  willingly, 
■in  this  contingency,  have  encouraged  her  cousin,  Dick 
Kearney,  and  even  led  him  on  to  little  displays  of  attention; 
but  Dick  held  aloof,  as  though  not  knowing  the  meaning  of 
this  favorable  turn  towards  him.  He  would  not  be  cheated 
by  coquetry.  How  many  men  are  of  this  temper,  and  who 
never  understand  that  it  is  by  surrendering  ourselves  to 
numberless  little  voluntary  deceptions  of  this  sort  we  arrive 
at  intimacies  the  most  real  and  most  truthful. 

She  next  tried  Gorman,  and  here  her  success  was  com- 
plete. All  those  womanly  prettinesses,  which  are  so  many 
modes  of  displaying  graceful  attraction  of  voice,  look, 
gesture,  or  attitude,  were  especially  dear  to  him.  Not  only 
they  gave  beauty  its  chief  charm,  but  they  constituted  a 
sort  of  game,  whose  address  was  quickness  of  eye,  readiness 
of  perception,  prompt  reply,  and  that  refined  tact  that  can 
follow  out  one  thought  in  a  conversation  just  as  you  follow 
.  a  melody  through  a  mass  of  variations. 

Perhaps  the  young  soldier  did  not  yield  himself  the  less 
readily  to  these  captivations  that  Kate  Kearney's  manner 
towards  him  was  studiously  cold  and  ceremonious. 

"The  other  girl  is  more  like  the  old  friend,"  muttered  he, 
as  he  chatted  on  with  her  about  Rome  and  Florence  and 
Venice,  imperceptibly  gliding  into  the  language  which  the 
names  of  places  suggested. 

"If  any  had  told  me  that  I  ever  could  have  talked  thus 
freely  and  openly  with  an  Austrian  soldier,  I  'd  not  'have 
believed  him,"  said  she  at  length,  "  for  all  my  sympathies 
in  Italy  were  with  the  national  party." 

"But  we  were  not  the  '  Barbari '  in  your  recollection, 
Mademoiselle,"  said  he.  "We  were  out  of  Italy  before  you 
could  have  any  feeling  for  either  party." 


AN  EVENING  IN  THE  DRAWING-ROOM.  313 

"  The  tradition  of  all  your  cruelties  has  survived  you,  and 
I  am  sure  if  3^ou  were  wearing  your  white  coat  still,  I'd  hate 
you." 

"You  are  giving  me  another  reason  to  ask  for  a  longer 
leave  of  absence,"  said  he,  bowing  courteously. 

"  And  this  leave  of  yours,  — how  long  does  it  last?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  to  own  to  myself.  Wednesday  fortnight  is 
the  end  of  it;  that  is,  it  gives  me  four  days  after  that  to 
reach  Vienna." 

"  And,  presenting  yourself  in  humble  guise  before  your 
Colonel,  to  say,  *  Ich  melde  mich  gehorsamst.' " 

"  Not  exactly  that,  but  something  like  it." 

"I'll  be  the  Herr  Oberst,  lieutenant,"  said  she,  laughing; 
"  so  come  forward  now  and  clap  your  heels  together,  and  let 
us  hear  how  you  utter  your  few  syllables  in  true  abject 
fashion.  I'll  sit  here,  and  receive  you."  As  she  spoke,  she 
threw  herself  into  an  arm-chair,  and  assuming  a  look  of  intense 
hauteur  and  defiance,  affected  to  stroke  an  imaginary  moustache 
with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  waved  a  haughty 
gesture  of  welcome. 

"I  have  outstayed  my  leave,"  muttered  Gorman,  in  a 
tremulous  tone.  "  I  hope  my  colonel,  with  that  bland 
mercy  which  characterizes  him,  will  forgive  my  fault  and 
let  me  ask  his  pardon."  And  with  this  he  knelt  down  on 
one  knee  before  her  and  kissed  her  hand. 

"  What  liberties  are  these,  sir  ?  "  cried  she,  so  angrily  that 
it  was  not  easy  to  say  whether  the  anger  was  not  real. 

"  It  is  the  latest  rule  introduced  into  our  service,"  said 
he,  with  mock  humility. 

"  Is  that  a  comedy  they  are  acting  yonder,"  said  Walpole, 
"  or  is  it  a  proverb  ?  " 

"  Whatever  the  drama,"  replied  Kate,  coldly,  "  I  don't 
think  they  want  a  public." 

"  You  may  go  back  to  your  duty,  Herr  Lieutenant,"  said 
Nina,  proudly,  and  with  a  significant  glance  towards  Kate. 
"Indeed,  I  suspect  you  have  been  rather  neglecting  it  of 
late."  And  with  this  she  sailed  majestically  away  towards 
the  end  of  the  room. 

"  I  wish  I  could  provoke  even  that  much  of  jealousy  from 
the  other,"  muttered  Gorman  to  himself,  as  he  bit  his  lip  in 


314  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

passion.  And  certainly,  if  a  look  and  manner  of  calm 
unconcern  meant  anything,  there  was  little  that  seemed  less 
likely. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  the  piano,  Nina,"  said  Kate. 
"  Mr.  Walpole  has  been  asking  me  by  what  artifice  you  could 
be  induced  to  sing  something  of  Mendelssohn." 

' '  I  am  going  to  sing  an  Irish  ballad  for  that  Austrian 
patriot,  who,  like  his  national  poet,  thinks  '  Ireland  a  beau- 
tiful country  to  live  out  of.'  "  Though  a  haughty  toss  of  her 
head  accompanied  these  words,  there  was  a  glance  in  her 
eye  towards  Gorman  that  plainly  invited  a  renewal  of  their 
half-flirting  hostilities. 

"  When  I  left  it,  you  had  not  been  here,"  said  he,  with  an 
obsequious  tone,  and  an  air  of  deference  only  too  marked  in 
its  courtesy. 

A  slight,  very  faiiit  blush  on  her  cheek  showed  that  she 
rather  resented  than  accepted  the  flattery  ;  but  she  appeared 
to  be  occupied  in  looking  through  the  music-books,  and 
made  no  rejoinder. 

"  We  want  Mendelssohn,  Nina,"  said  Kate. 
'     "  Or  at  least  Spohr,"  added  Walpole. 

"I  never  accept  dictation  about  what  I  sing,"  muttered 
Nina,  only  loud  enough  to  be  overheard  by  Gorman. 
"People  don't  tell  you  what  theme  you  are  to  talk  on; 
they  don't  presume  to  say,  '  Be  serious  or  be  witty.'  They 
don't  tell  you  to  come  to  the  aid  of  their  sluggish  natures 
by  passion,  or  to  dispel  their  dreariness  by  flights  of  fancy ; 
and  why  are  they  to  dare  all  this  to  us  who  speak  through 
song?" 

"Just  because  you  alone  can  do  these  things,"  said  Gor- 
man, in  the  same  low  voice  as  she  had  spoken  in. 

"Can  I  help  you  in  your  search,  dearest?"  said  Kate, 
coming  over  to  the  piano. 

"  Might  I  hope  to  be  of  use?  "  asked  Walpole. , 

"Mr.  O'Shea  wants  me  to  sing  something  for  him,''  said 
Nina,  coldly.     "  What  is  it  to  be?  "  asked  she  of  Gorman. 

With  the  readiness  of  one  who  could  respond  to  any 
sudden  call  upon  his  tact,  Gorman  at  once  took  up  a  piece  of 
music  from  the  mass  before  him,  and  said,  "  Here  is  what  I 
have  been  searching  for."     It  was  a  little  Neapolitan  ballad, 


AN   EVENING  IN  THE   DRAWING-ROOM.  315 

of  no  p&culiar  beauty,  but  one  of  those  simple  melodies  in 
which  the  rapid  transition  from  deep  feeling  to  a  wild,  almost 
reckless  gayety  imparts  all  the  character. 

"  Yes,  I  '11  sing  that,"  said  Nina ;  and  almost  in  the  same 
breath  the  notes  came  floating  through  the  air,  slow  and  sad 
at  first,  as  though  laboring  under  some  heavy  sorrow,  the 
very  syllables  faltered  on  her  lips  like  a  grief  struggling  for 
utterance,  —  when,  just  as  a  thrilling  cadence  died  slowly 
away,  she  burst  forth  into  the  wildest  and  merriest  strain, 
something  so  impetuous  in  gayety  that  the  singer  seemed  to 
lose  all  control  of  expression,  and  floated  away  in  sound  with 
every  caprice  of  enraptured  imagination.  When  in  the  very 
whirlwind  of  this  impetuous  gladness,  as  though  a  memory 
of  a  terrible  sorrow  had  suddenly  crossed  her,  she  ceased ; 
then,  in  tones  of  actual  agony,  her  voice  rose  to  a  cry  of  such 
utter  misery  as  despair  alone  could  utter.  The  sounds 
died  slowly  away,  as  though  liugeringly.  Two  bold  chords 
followed,  and  she  was  silent. 

None  spoke  in  the  room.  Was  this  real  passion,  or  was  it 
the  mere  exhibition  of  an  accomplished  artist,  who  could 
call  up  expression  at  will,  as  easily  as  a  painter  could 
heighten  color  ?  Kate  Kearney  evidently  believed  the  former, 
as  her  heaving  chest  and  her  tremulous  lip  betrayed ;  while 
the  cold,  simpering  smile  on  Walpole's  face,  and  the  "  Brava, 
bravissima,"  in  which  he  broke  the  silence,  vouched  how  he 
had  interpreted  that  show  of  emotion. 

"  If  that  is  singing,  I  wonder  what  is  crying,"  cried  old 
Kearney,  while  he  wiped  his  eyes,  very  angry  at  his  own 
weakness.  ''And  now  will  any  one  tell  me  what  it  was 
all  about  ?  " 

"A  j^oung  girl,  sir,"  replied  Gorman,  "who  by  a  great 
effort  has  rallied  herself  to  dispel  her  sorrow  and  be  merry, 
suddenly  remembers  that  her  sweetheart  may  not  love  her ; 
and  the  more  she  dwells  on  the  thought,  the  more  firmly  she 
believes  it.  That  was  the  cry,  '  He  never  loved  me,'  that 
went  to  all  our  hearts." 

"  Faith,  then,  if  Nina  has  to  say  that,"  said  the  old  man. 
"Heaven  help  the  others." 

"  Indeed,  uncle,  you  are  more  gallant  than  all  these  young 
gentlemen,"  said  Nina,  rising,  and  approaching  him. 


316  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

''  Why  they  are  not  all  at  your  feet  this  moment  is  more 
than  I  can  tell.  They  're  always  telling  me  the  world  is 
changed,  and  I  begin  to  see  it  now." 

''I  suspect,  sir,  it's  pretty  much  what  it  used  to  be," 
lisped  out  Walpole.  "  We  are  only  less  demonstrative  than 
our  fathers." 

"  Just  as  I  am  less  extravagant  than  mine,"  cried  Kil- 
gobbin,  "  because  I  have  not  got  it  to  spend." 

''  I  hope  Mademoiselle  Nina  judges  us  more  mercifully," 
said  Walpole.   ' 

"  Is  that  song  a  favorite  of  yours?  "  asked  she  of  Gorman, 
without  noticing  Walpole's  remark  in  any  way. 

*'No,"  said  he,  bluntly;  "it  makes  me  feel  like  a  fool, 
and,  I  am  afraid,  look  like  one,  too,  when  I  hear  it." 

"  I  'm  glad  there 's  even  that  much  blood  in  you,"  cried  old 
Kearney,  who  had  caught  the  words.  "  Oh  dear  !  oh  dear  ! 
England  need  never  be  afraid  of  the  young  generation." 

"That  seems  to  be  a  very  painful  thought  to  you,  sir," 
said  Walpole. 

"And  so  it  is,"  replied  he.  "The  lower  we  bend,  the 
more  you  '11  lay  on  us.  It  was  your  language,  and  what 
you  call  your  civilization,  broke  us  down  first,  and  the 
little  spirit  that  fought  against  either  is  fast  dying  out  of 
us." 

"  Do  you  want  Mr.  Walpole  to  become  a  Fenian,  papa?  " 
asked  Kate. 

"  You  see,  they  took  him  for  one  to-day,"  broke  in  Dick, 
"when  they  came  and  carried  off  all  his  luggage." 

"By  the  way,"  interposed  Walpole,  "we  must  take  care 
that  that  stupid  blunder  does  not  get  into  the  local  papers, 
or  we  shall  have  it  circulated  by  the  London, press." 

"  I  have  already  thought  of  that,"  said  Dick,  "  and  I  shall 
go  into  Moate  to-morrow  and  see  about  it." 

"Does  that  mean  to  say  that  you  desert  croquet?"  said 
Nina,  imperiously. 

"You  have  got  Lieutenant  O'Shea  in  my  place,  and  a 
better  player  than  me  already." 

"  I  fear  I  must  take  my  leave  to-morrow,"  said  Gorman, 
with  a  touch  of  real  sorrow,  for  in  secret  he  knew  not  whither 
he  was  going. 


AN  EVENING  IN  THE  DRAWING-ROOM.  317 

"  Would  your  aunt  not  spare  you  to  us  for  a  few  days?  " 
said  the  old  man.  "  I  am  in  no  favor  with  her  just  now,  but 
she  would  scarcely  refuse  what  we  would  all  deem  a  great 
favor." 

"  My  aunt  would  not  think  the  sacrifice  too  much  for  her," 
said  Gorman,  trying  lo  laugh  at  the  conceit. 

"  You  shall  stay,"  murmured  Nina,  in  a  tone  only  audible 
to  him ;  and  by  a  slight  bow  he  acknowledged  the  words  as 
a  command. 

"  I  believe  my  best  way,"  said  Gorman,  gayly,  "  will  be  to 
outstay  my  leave,  and  take  my  punishment,  whatever  it  be, 
when  I  go  back  again." 

"That  is  military  morality,"  said  Walpole,  in  a  half- 
whisper  to  Kate,  but  to  be  overheard  by  Nina.  "We  poor 
civilians  don't  understand  how  to  keep  a  debtor  and  credi- 
tor account  with  conscience." 

"  Could  you  manage  to  provoke  that  man  to  quarrel  with 
you?  "  said  Nina  secretly  to  Gorman,  while  her  eyes  glanced 
towards  Walpole. 

"I  think  I  might;  but  what  then?  He  wouldn't  fight, 
and  the  rest  of  England  would  shun  me." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  she,  slowly.  "  When  any  is  injured 
here,  he  tries  to  make  money  out  of  it.  I  don't  suppose  you 
want  money  ?  " 

' '  Not  earned  in  that  fashion,  certainly.  But  I  think  they 
are  saying  good-night." 

"  They  're  always  boasting  about  the  man  that  found  out 
the  safety-lamp,"  said  old  Kearney,  as  he  moved  away ;  "but 
give  me  the  fellow  that  invented  a  flat  candlestick !  " 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

SOME    NIGHT-THOUGHTS. 

When  Gorman  .  reached  his  room,  into  which  a  rich  flood 
of  moonlight  was  streaming,  he  extinguished  his  candle, 
and,  seating  himself  at  the  open  window,  lighted  his  cigar, 
seriously  believing  he  was  going  to  reflect  on  his  present 
condition  and  forecast  something  of  the  future.  Though 
he  had  spoken  so  cavalierly  of  outstaying  his  time,  and 
accepting  arrest  afterwards,  the  jest  was  by  no  means  so 
palatable  now  that  he  was  alone,  and  could  own  to  himself 
that  the  leave  he  possessed  was  the  unlimited  liberty  to 
be  houseless  and  a  vagabond,  to  have  none  to  claim,  no 
roof  to  shelter  him. 

His  aunt's  law-agent,  the  same  Mr.  McKeown  who  acted 
for  Lord  Kilgobbin,  had  once  told  Gorman  that  all  the  King's 
County  property  of  the  O'Sheas  was  entailed  upon  him,  and 
that  his  aunt  had  no  power  to  alienate  it.  It  is  true  the  old 
lady  disputed  this  position,  and  so  strongly  resented  even 
allusion  to  it,  that,  for  the  sake  of  inheriting  that  twelve 
thousand  pounds  she  possessed  in  Dutch  stock,  McKeown 
warned  Gorman  to  avoid  anything  that  might  imply  his 
being  aware  of  this  fact. 

Whether  a  general  distrust  of  all  legal  people  and  their 
assertions  was  the  reason,  or  whether  mere  abstention  from 
the  topic  had  impaired  the  force  of  its  truth,  or  whether  — 
more  likely  than  either  —  he  would  not  suffer  himself  to 
question  the  intentions  of  one  to  whom  he  owed  so  much, 
certain  is  it  young  O'Shea  almost  felt  as  much  averse  to 
the  belief  as  the  old  lady  herself,  and  resented  the  thought 
of  its  being  true,  as  of  something  that  would  detract  from 
the  spirit  of  the  affection  she  had  always  borne  him,  and 
that  he  repaid  by  a  love  as  faithful. 


SOME   NIGHT-THOUGHTS.  319 

*' No,  no.  Confound  it!"  he  would  say  to  himself. 
' '  Aunt  Betty  loves  me,  and  money  has  no  share  in  the 
affection  I  bear  her.  If  she  knew  I  must  be  her  heir, 
she'd  say  so  frankly  and  freely.  She'd  scorn  the  notion 
of  doling  out  to  me  as  benevolence  what  one  day  would 
be  my  own  by  right.  She  is  proud  and  intolerant  enough, 
but  she  is  seldom  unjust,  —  never  so  willingly  and  con- 
sciously. If,  then,  she  has  not  said  O'Shea's  Barn  must 
be  mine  some  time,  it  is  because  she  knows  well  it  caunot 
be  true.  Besides,  this  very  last  step  of  hers,  this  haughty 
dismissal  of  me  from  her  house,  implies  the  possession  of 
a  power  which  she  would  not  dare  to  exercise  if  she  were 
but  a  life-tenant  of  the  property.  Last  of  all,  had  she 
speculated  ever  so  remotely  on  my  being  the  proprietor 
of  Irish  landed  property,  it  was  most  unlikely  she  would 
so  strenuously  have  encouraged  me  to  pursue  my  career 
as  an  Austrian  soldier,  and  turn  all  my  thoughts  to  my 
prospects  under  the  Empire." 

In  fact,  she  never  lost  the  opportunity  of  reminding  him 
how  unfit  he  was  to  live  in  Ireland  or  amongst  Irishmen. 

Such  reflections  as  I  have  briefly  hinted  at  here  took  him 
some  time  to  arrive  at,  for  his  thoughts  did  not  come  freely, 
or  rapidly  make  place  for  others.  The  sum  of  them,  how- 
ever, was  that  he  was  thrown  upon  the  world,  and  just  at 
the  very  threshold  of  life,  and  when  it  held  out  its  more 
alluring  prospects. 

There  is  something  peculiarly  galling  to  the  man  who  is 
wincing  under  the  pang  of  poverty  to  find  that  the  world 
regards  him  as  rich  and  well  off,  and  totally  beyond  the 
accidents  of  fortune.  It  is  not  simply  that  he  feels  how  his 
every  action  will  be  misinterpreted  and  mistaken,  and  a 
spirit  of  thrift,  if  not  actual  shabbiness,  ascribed  to  all 
that  he  does,  but  he  also  regards  himself  as  a  sort  of  im- 
position or  sham,  who  has  gained  access  to  a  place  he  has 
no  right  to  occupy,  and  to  associate  on  terms  of  equality 
with  men  of  tastes  and  habits  and  ambitions  totally  above 
his  own.  It  was  in  this  spirit  he  remembered  Nina's  chance 
expression,  "I  don't  suppose  you  want  money!"  There 
could  be  no  other  meaning  in  the  phrase  than  some  fore- 
gone conclusion   about   his  being   a   man   of   fortune.     Of 


820  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

course  she  acquired  this  notion  from  those  around  her.  As 
a  stranger  to  Ireland,  all  she  knew,  or  thought  she  knew, 
had  been  conveyed  by  others.  ^'I  don't  suppose  you  want 
money"  was  another  way  of  saying,  "You  are  your  aunt's 
heir.  You  are  the  future  owner  of  the  O'Shea  estates.  No 
vast  property,  it  is  true ;  but  quite  enough  to  maintain  the 
position  of  a  gentleman." 

'  ^  Who  knows  how  much  of  this  Lord  Kilgobbin  or  his 
son  Dick  believed?"  tliought  he.  "But  certainly  my  old 
playfellow  Kate  has  no  faith  in  the  matter,  or  if  she  have, 
it  has  little  weight  with  her  in  her  estimate  of  me. 

"  It  was  in  this  very  room  I  was  lodged  something  like 
five  years  ago.  It  was  at  this  very  window  I  used  to  sit  at 
night,  weaving  Heaven  knows  what  dreams  of  a  future.  I 
was  very  much  in  love  in  those  days,  and  a  very  honest 
and  loyal  love  it  was.  I  wanted  to  be  very  great,  and 
very  gallant,  and  distinguished,  and,  above  all,  very  rich; 
but  only  for  /ier,  ojily  that  she  might  be  surrounded  with 
every  taste  and  luxury  that  became  her,  and  that  she  should 
share  them  with  me.  I  knew  well  she  was  better  than  me, 
—  better  in  every  way :  not  only  purer  and  simpler  and 
more  gentle,  but  more  patient,  more  enduring,  more  tena- 
cious of  what  was  true,  and  more  decidedly  the  enemy  of 
what  was  merely  expedient.  Then,  was  she  not  proud? 
not  with  the  pride  of  birth  or  station,  or  of  an  old  name 
and  a  time-honored  house,  but  proud  that  whatever  she  did 
or  said  amongst  the  tenantry  or  the  neighbors,  none  ever 
ventured  to  question  or  even  qualify  the  intention  that  sug- 
gested it.  The  utter  impossibility  of  ascribing  a  double 
motive  to  her,  or  of  imagining  any  object  in  what  she  coun- 
selled but  the  avowed  one,  gave  her  a  pride  that  accom- 
panied her  through  every  hour  of  life. 

"  Last  of  all,  she  believed  in  me,  — believed  I  was  going 
to  be  one  day  something  very  famous  and  distinguished : 
a  gallant  soldier,  whose  very  presence  gave  courage  to  the 
men  who  followed  him,  and  with  a  name  repeated  in  honor 
over  Europe.  The  day  was  too  short  for  these  fancies,  for 
they  grew  actually  as  we  fed  them,  and  the  wildest  flight  of 
imagination  led  us  on  to  the  end  of  the  time  when  there  would 
be  but  one  hope,  one  ambition,  and  one  heart  between  us. 


SOME  NIGHT-THOUGHTS.  321 

''  I  am  convinced  that  had  any  one  at  that  time  hinted  to 
her  that  I  was  to  inherit  the  O'Shea  estates,  he  would  have 
dealt  a  most  dangerous  blow  to  her  affection  for  me.  The 
romance  of  that  unknown  future  had  a  great  share  in  our 
compact.  And  then  we  were  so  serious  about  it  all,  —  the 
very  gravity  it  impressed  being  an  ecstasy  to  our  young 
hearts  in  the  thought  of  self-importance  and  responsibility. 
Nor  were  we  without  our  little  tiffs,  —  those  lovers'  quarrels 
that  reveal  what  a  terrible  civil  war  can  rage  within  the 
heart  that  rebels  against  itself.  I  know  the  very  spot  where 
we  quarrelled ;  I  could  point  to  the  miles  of  way  we  walked 
side  by  side  without  a  word;  and  oh!  was  it  not  on  that 
very  bed  I  have  passed  the  night,  sobbing  till  I  thought  my 
heart  would  break,  all  because  I  had  not  fallen  at  her  feet 
and  begged  her  forgiveness  ere  we  parted?  Not  that  she 
was  without  her  self-accusings,  too;  for  I  remember  one 
way  in  which  she  expressed  sorrow  for  having  done  me 
wrong  was  to  send  me  a  shower  of  rose-leaves  from  her 
little  terraced  garden ;  and  as  they  fell  in  shoals  across  my 
window,  what  a  balm  and  bliss  they  shed  over  my  heart! 
Would  I.  not  give  every  hope  I  have  to  bring  it  all  back 
again  ?  to  live  it  over  once  more,  —  to  lie  at  her  feet  in  the 
grass,  affecting  to  read  to  her,  but  really  watching  her  long 
black  lashes  as  they  rested  on  her  cheek,  or  that  quivering 
lip  as  it  trembled  with  emotion.  How  I  used  to  detest  that 
work  which  employed  the  blue- veined  hand  I  loved  to  hold 
within  my  own,  kissing  it  at  every  pause  in  the  reading,  or 
whenever  I  could  pretext  a  reason  to  question  her!  And 
now  here  I  am  in  the  self-same  place,  amidst  the  same  scenes 
and  objects.  Nothing  changed  but  herself!  She,  however, 
will  remember  nothing  of  the  past,  or  if  she  does,  it  is  with 
repugnance  and  regret ;  her  manner  to  me  is  a  sort  of  cold 
defiance,  not  to  dare  to  revive  our  old  intimacy,  nor  to  fancy 
that  I  can  take  up  our  acquaintanceship  from  the  past.  I 
almost  fancied  she  looked  resentfully  at  the  Greek  girl  for 
the  freedom  to  which  she  admitted  me,  — not  but  there  was 
in  the  other's  coquetry  the  very  stamp  of  that  levity  other 
women  are  so  ready  to  take  offence  at ;  in  fact,  it  constitutes 
amongst  women  exactly  the  same  sort  of  outrage,  the  same 
breach   of   honor   and    loyalty,    as   cheating   at   play   does 

21 


322  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

amongst  men,  and  the  offenders  are  as  much  socially  out- 
lawed in  one  case  as  in  the  other.  I  wonder,  am  I  what  is 
called  falling  in  love  with  the  Greek,  —  that  is,  I  wonder, 
have  the  charms  of  her  astonishing  beauty,  and  the  grace  of 
her  manner,  and  the  thousand  seductions  of  her  voice,  her 
gestures,  and  her  walk,  above  all,  so  captivated  me  that  I  do 
not  want  to  go  back  on  the  past,  and  may  hope  soon  to 
repay  Miss  Kate  Kearney  by  an  indifference  the  equal  of  her 
own?  I  don't  think  so.  Indeed  I  feel  that  even  when 
Nina  was  interesting  me  most,  I  was  stealing  secret  glances 
towards  Kate,  and  cursing  that  fellow  Walpole  for  the  way 
he  was  engaging  her  attention.  Little  the  Greek  suspected, 
when  she  asked  if  'I  could  not  fix  a  quarrel  on  him,'  with 
what  a  motive  it  was  that  my  heart  jumped  at  the  sugges- 
tion !  He  is  so  studiously  ceremonious  and  distant  with  me ; 
he  seems  to  think  I  am  not  one  of  those  to  be  admitted  to 
closer  intimacy.  I  know  that  English  theory  of  '  the  unsafe 
man,'  by  which  people  of  unquestionable  courage  avoid  con- 
tact with  all  schooled  to  other  ways  and  habits  than  their 
own.  I  hate  it.  '  I  am  unsafe,'  to  his  thinking.  Well,  if 
having  no  reason  to  care  for  safety  be  sufficient,  he  is  not 
far  wrong.  Dick  Kearney,  too,  is  not  very  cordial.  He 
scarcely  seconded  his  father's  invitation  to  me,  and  what 
he  did  say  was  merely  what  courtesy  obliged.  So  that  in 
reality,  though  the  old  lord  was  hearty  and  good-natured,  I 
believe  I  am  here  now  because  Mademoiselle  Nina  com- 
manded me,  rather  than  from  any  other  reason.  If  this  be 
true,  it  is,  to  say  the  least,  a  sorry  compliment  to  my  sense 
of  delicacy.  Her  words  were,  '  You  shall  stay,'  and  it  is 
upon  this  I  am  staying." 

As  though  the  air  of  the  room  grew  more  hard  to  breathe 
with  this  thought  before  him,  he  arose  and  leaned  half-way 
out  of  the  window. 

As  he  did  so,  his  ear  caught  the  sound  of  voices.  It  was 
Kate  and  Nina,  who  were  talking  on  the  terrace  above  his 
head. 

''  I  declare,  Nina,'*  said  Kate,  "  you  have  stripped  every 
leaf  off  my  poor  ivy-geranium  ;  there  's  nothing  left  of  it  but 
bare  branches." 

''  There  goes  the  last  handful,"  said  the  other,  as  she  threw 


SOME  NIGHT-THOUGHTS.  323 

them  over  the  parapet,  some  falling  on  Gorman  as  he  leaned 
out.  "  It  was  a  bad  habit  I  learned  from  yourself,  child.  I 
remember  when  I  came  here,  you  used  to  do  this  each  night, 
like  a  religious  rite." 

"I  suppose  they  were  the  dried  or  withered  leaves  that  I 
threw  away,"  said  Kate,  with  a  half  irritation  in  her  voice. 

' '  No,  they  were  not.     They  were  oftentimes  from  your 
prettiest  roses,  and  as  I  watched  you,  I  saw  it  was  in  noj 
distraction  or  inadvertence  you  were  doing  this,  for  you  were ' 
generally  silent  and  thoughtful  some  time  before,  and  there 
was  even  an  air  of  sadness  about  you,  as  though  a  painful 
thought  was  bringing  its  gloomy  memories." 

"  What  an  object  of  interest  I  have  been  to  you  without 
suspecting  it !  "  said  Kate,  coldly. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  the  other,  in  the  same  tone  ;  "  they  who 
make  few  confidences  suggest  much  ingenuity.  If  you  had 
a  meaning  in  this  act  and  told  me  what  it  was,  it  is  more 
than  likely  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it  ere  now.  You  pre- 
ferred secrecy,  and  you  made  me  curious." 

*' There  was  nothing  to  reward  curiosity,"  said  she,  in 
the  same  measured  tone ;  then,  after  a  moment,  she  added : 
*'  I'm  sure  I  never  sought  to  ascribe  some  hidden  motive  to 
you.  When  you  left  my  plants  leafless,  I  was  quite  content 
to  believe  that  you  were  mischievous  without  knowing  it." 

"I  read  you  differently,"  said  Nina.  "When  you  do 
mischief,  you  mean  mischief.  Now  I  became  so  —  so  —  what 
shall  I  call  it  ?  —  intriguee  about  this  little  '  fetish  '  of  yours 
that  I  remember  well  the  night  you  first  left  off  and  never 
resumed  it." 

"  And  when  was  that?  "  asked  Kate,  carelessly. 

"  On  a  certain  Friday,  the  night  Miss  O'Shea  dined  here 
last ;  was  it  not  a  Friday  ?  " 

"Fridays,  we  fancy,  are  unlucky  days,"  said  Kate,  in  a 
voice  of  easy  indifference. 

"  I  wonder  which  are  the  lucky  ones?  "  said  Nina,  sighing. 
"  They  are  certainly  not  put  down  in  the  Irish  almanac. 
By  the  way,  is  not  this  a  Friday?  " 

"  Mr.  O'Shea  will  not  call  it  amongst  his  unlucky  days,*' 
said  Kate,  laughingly. 

"  I  almost  think  I  like  your  Austrian,"  said  the  other. 


324  LOKD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  Only  don't  call  him  my  Austrian." 

"  Well,  he  was  yours  till  you  threw  him  off.  No,  don't 
be  angry ;  I  am  only  talking  in  that  careless  slang  we  all 
use  when  we  mean  nothing,  just  as  people  employ  counters 
instead  of  money  at  cards ;  but  I  like  him.  He  has  that  easy 
flippancy  in  talk  that  asks  for  no  effort  to  follow,  and  he 
says  his  little  nothings  nicely,  and  he  is  not  too  eager  as  to 
great  ones,  or  too  energetic,  which  you  all  are  here.  I  like 
him." 

"I  fancied  you  liked  the  eager  and  enthusiastic  people, 
and  that  you  felt  a  warm  interest  in  Donogan's  fate." 

"  Yes,  I  do  hope  they'll  not  catch  him.  It  would  be  too 
horrid  to  think  of  any  one  we  had  known  being  hanged ! 
And  then,  poor  fellow,  he  was  very  much  in  love." 

*'  Poor  fellow !  "  sighed  out  Kate. 

**  Not  but  it  was  the  only  gleam  of  sunlight  in  his  exist- 
ence, he  could  go  away  and  fancy  that,  with  Heaven  knows 
what  chances  of  fortune,  he  might  have  won  me." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  cried  Kate,  more  sorrowfully  than  before-  ' 

''  No,  far  from  it,  but  very  '  happy  fellow '  if  he  could 
feed  his  heart  with  such  a  delusion." 

''  And  you  think  it  fair  to  let  him  have  this  delusion?  " 

"Of  course  I  do.  I'd  no  more  rob  him  of  it  than  I'd 
snatch  a  life-buoy  from  a  drowning  man.  Do  you  fancy, 
child,  that  the  swimmer  will  always  go  about  with  the  corks 
that  have  saved  his  life  ?  " 

"  These  mock  analogies  are  sorry  arguments,"  said  Kate. 

"  Tell  me,  does  your  Austrian  sing?  I  see  he  understands 
music,  but  I  hope  he  can  sing." 

*'  I  can  tell  you  next  to  nothing  of  my  Austrian,  —  if  he 
must  be  called  so.  It  is  five  years  since  we  met,  and  all  I 
know  is  how  little  like  he  seems  to  what  he  once  was." 

"  I  'm  sure  he  is  vastly  improved  ;  a  hundred  times  better 
mannered ;  with  more  ease,  more  quickness,  and  more  readi- 
ness in  conversation.     I  like  him." 

"  I  trust  he'll  find  out  his  great  good  fortune,  — that  is,  if 
it  be  not  a  delusion." 

For  a  few  seconds  there  was  a  silence,  —  a  silence  so  com- 
plete that  Gorman  could  hear  the  rustle  of  a  dress  as  Nina 
moved  from  her  place,  and  seated  herself  on  the  battlement 


SOME  NIGHT-THOUGHTS.  325 

of  the  terrace.  He  then  could  catch  the  low  murmuring 
sounds  of  her  voice,  as  she  hummed  an  air  to  herself,  and  at 
length  traced  it  to  be  the  song  she  had  sung  that  same 
evening  in  the  drawing-room.  The  notes  came  gradually 
more  and  more  distinct,  the  tones  swelled  out  into  greater 
fulness,  and  at  last,  with  one  long-sustained  cadence  of 
thrilling  passion,  she  cried,  *' Non  mi  amava  —  non  mi 
amava !  "  with  an  expression  of  heart-breaking  sorrow,  tlie 
last  syllables  seeming  to  linger  on  the  lips  as  if  a  hope  was 
deserting  them  forever.  "Oh,  non  mi  amava!  "  cried  she, 
and  her  voice  trembled  as  though  the  avowal  of  her  despair 
was  the  last  effort  of  her  strength.  Slowly  and  faintly  the 
sounds  died  away,  while  Gorman,  leaning  out  to  the  utmost 
to  catch  the  dying  notes,  strained  his  hearing  to  drink  them 
in.  All  was  still,  and  then  suddenly  with  a  wild  roulade 
that  sounded  at  first  like  the  passage  of  a  musical  scale,  she 
burst  out  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  crying,  ''Non  mi  amava," 
through  the  sounds,  in  a  half-frantic  mockery.  "No,  no, 
mon  mi  amava,"  laughed  she  out,  as  she  walked  back  into 
the  room.  The  window  was  now  closed  with  a  heavy  bang, 
and  all  was  silent  in  the  house. 

*'And  these  are  the  affections  we  break  our  hearts  for!  " 
cried  Gorman,  as  he  threw  himself  on  his  bed  and  covered 
his  face  with  both  his  hands. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

THE    HEAD    CO>^STABLE. 

The  Chief  Constable,  —  or,  to  use  the  irreverent  designation 
of  the  neighborhood,  the  Head  Peeler, —  who  had  carried  away 
Walpole's  luggage  and  papers,  no  sooner  discovered  the 
grave  mistake  he  had  committed  than  he  hastened  to  restore 
them,  and  was  waiting  personally  at  the  castle  to  apologize 
for  the  blunder,  long  before  any  of  the  family  had  come 
downstairs.  His  indiscretion  might  cost  him  his  place; 
and  Captain  Curtis,  who  had  to  maintain  a  wife  and  family, 
three  saddle-horses,  and  a  green  uniform  with  more  gold  on 
it  than  a  field-marshal's,  felt  duly  anxious  and  uneasy  for 
what  he  had  done. 

"  Who  is  that  gone  down  the  road  ? "  asked  he,  as  he 
stood  at  the  window,  while  a  woman  was  setting  the  room 
in  order. 

"Sure,  it's  Miss  Kate  taking  the  dogs  out.  Isn't  she 
always  the  first  up  of  a  morning?"  Though  the  Captain 
had  little  personal  acquaintance  with  Miss  Kearney,  he  knew 
her  well  by  reputation,  and  knew,  therefore,  that  he  might 
safely  approach  her  to  ask  a  favor.  He  overtook  her  at 
once,  and  in  a  few  words  made  known  the  difficulty  in 
which  he  found  himself. 

"Is  it  not,  after  all,  a  mere  passing  mistake,  which  once 
apologized  for  is  forgotten  altogether?"  asked  she.  "Mr. 
Walpole  is  surely  not  a  person  to  bear  any  malice  for  such 
an  incident?" 

"I  don't  know  that.  Miss  Kearney,"  said  he,  doubtingly. 
"His  papers  have  been  thoroughly  ransacked,  and  old  Mr. 
Flood,  the  Tory  magistrate,  has  taken  copies  of  several 
letters  and  documents,  all,  of  course,  under  the  impression 
that  they  formed  part  of  a  treasonable  correspondence." 


THE    HEAD   CONSTABLE.  327 

'*Was  it  not  very  evident  that  the  papers  could  not  have 
belonged  to  a  Fenian  leader?  Was  not  any  mistake  in  the 
matter  easily  avoided  ?  " 

"Not  at  once,  because  there  was,  first  of  all,  a  sort  of 
account  of  the  insurrectionary  movement  here,  with  a  num- 
ber of  queries,  such  as,  '  Who  is  M ?  '     '  Are  F.  Y 

and  M'Causland  the  same  person? '  '  What  connection 
exists   between   the   Meath   outrages   and   the   late  events 

in   Tipperary  ?  '     '  How   is  B to  explain  his   conduct 

sufficiently  to  be  retained  in  the  Commission  of  the  Peace  ?  ' 
In  a  word.  Miss  Kearney,  all  the  troublesome  details  by 
which  a  Ministry  have  to  keep  their  own  supporters  in 
decent  order,  are  here  hinted  at,  if  not  more,  and  it  lies 
with  a  batch  of  red-hot  Tories  to  make  a  terrible  scandal 
out  of  this  affair." 

"It  is  graver  than  I  suspected,"  said  she,  thoughtfully. 

"And  I  may  lose  my  place,"  muttered  Curtis,  "unless, 
indeed,  you  would  condescend  to  say  a  word  for  me  to  Mr. 
Walpole." 

"Willingly,  if  it  were  of  any  use;  but  I  think  my  cousin, 
Mademoiselle  Kostalergi,  would  be  likelier  of  success,  and 
here  she  comes." 

Nina  came  forward  at  that  moment,  with  that  indolent 
grace  of  movement  with  which  she  swept  the  greensward  of 
the  lawn  as  though  it  were  the  carpet  of  a  saloon.  With  a 
brief  introduction  of  Mr.  Curtis,  her  cousin  Kate  in  a  few 
words  conveyed  the  embarrassment  of  his  present  position, 
and  his  hope  that  a  kindly  intercession  might  avert  his 
danger. 

"What  droll  people  you  must  be  not  to  find  out  that  the 
letters  of  a  Viceroy's  secretary  could  not  be  the  correspond- 
ence of  a  rebel  leader!  "  said  Nina,  superciliously. 

"I  have  already  told  Miss  Kearney  how  that  fell  out," 
said  he;  "and  I  assure  you  there  was  enough  in  those 
papers  to  mystify  better  and  clearer  heads." 

"But  you  read  the  addresses,  and  saw  how  the  letters 
began,  '  My  dear  Mr.  Walpole,'  or  '  Dear  Walpole  '  ?  " 

"And  thought  they  had  been  purloined.  Have  I  not  found 
'  Dear  Clarendon  '  often  enough  in  the  same  packet  with 
cross-bones  and  a  coffin?" 


328  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  What  a  country !  "  said  Nina,  with  a  sigh. 

"Very  like  Greece,  I  suppose,"  said  Kate,  tartly;  then, 
suddenly,  "Will  you  undertake  to  make  this  gentleman's 
peace  with  Mr.  Walpole,  and  show  how  the  whole  was  a 
piece  of  ill-directed  zeal?" 

"Indiscreet  zeal." 

"Well,  indiscreet,  if  you  like  it  better." 

"And  you  fancied,  then,  that  all  the  fine  linen  and  purple 
you  carried  away  were  the  properties  of  a  Head-Centre  ?  " 

"We  thought  so." 

"And  the  silver  objects  of  the  dressing-table,  and  the 
ivory  inlaid  with  gold,  and  the  trifles  studded  with 
turquoise  ?  " 

"They  might  have  been  Donogan's.  Do  you  know, 
Mademoiselle,  that  this  same  Donogan  was  a  man  of  for- 
tune, and  in  all  the  society  of  the  first  men  at  Oxford,  when 
—  a  mere  boy  at  the  time  —  he  became  a  rebel?" 

"How  nice  of  him!     What  a  fine  fellow!  " 

"I'd  say  what  a  fool!"  continued  Curtis.  "He  had  no 
need  to  risk  his  neck  to  achieve  a  station;  the  thing  was 
done  for  him.  He  had  a  good  house  and  a  good  estate  in 
Kilkenny;  I  have  caught  salmon  in  the  river  that  washes 
the  foot  of  his  lawn." 

"And  what  has  become  of  it?     Does  he  still  own  it?  " 

"Not  an  acre,  —  not  a  rood  of  it;  sold  every  square  yard 
of  it  to  throw  the  money  into  the  Fenian  treasury.  Rifled 
artillery,  Colt's  revolvers.  Remington's,  and  Parrot  guns 
have  walked  off  with  the  broad  acres." 

"Fine  fellow, — a  fine  fellow!"  cried  Nina,  enthusiasti- 
cally. 

"That  fine  fellow  has  done  a  deal  of  mischief,"  said  Kate, 
thoughtfully. 

"He  has  escaped,  has  he  not?  "  asked  Nina. 

"We  hope  not;  that  is,  we  know  that  he  is  about  to  sail 
for  St.  John's  by  a  clipper  now  in  Belfast,  and  we  shall 
have  a  fast  steam-corvette  ready  to  catch  her  in  the  Chan- 
nel. He  '11  be  under  Yankee  colors,  it  is  true,  and  claim  an 
American  citizenship;  but  we  must  run  risks  sometimes, 
and  this  is  one  of  those  times." 

"But  you  know  where  he  is  now?  Why  not  apprehend 
him  on  shore  ?  " 


THE  HEAD  CONSTABLE.  329 

"The  very  thing  we  do  not  know,  Mademoiselle.  I  'd 
rather  be  sure  of  it  than  have  five  thousand  pounds  in  my 
hand.  Some  say  he  is  here,  in  the  neighborhood;  some 
that  he  is  gone  south;  others  declare  that  he  has  reached 
Liverpool.  All  we  really  do  know  is  about  the  ship  that 
he  means  to  sail  in,  and  on  which  the  second  mate  has 
informed  us." 

"And  all  your  boasted  activity  is  at  fault,"  said  she,  inso- 
lently, "when  you  have  to  own  you  cannot  track  him." 

"Nor  is  it  so  easy.  Mademoiselle,  where  a  whole  popula- 
tion befriend  and  feel  for  him." 

"And  if  they  do,  with  what  face  can  you  persecute  what 
has  the  entire  sympathy  of  a  nation  ?  " 

"Don't  provoke  answers  which  are  sure  not  to  satisfy 
you,  and  which  you  could  but  half  comprehend ;  but  tell  Mr. 
Curtis  you  will  use  your  influence  to  make  Mr.  Walpole 
forget  this  mishap." 

"But  I  do  want  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  this  question.  I 
will  insist  on  learning  why  people  rebel  here." 

"In  that  case  I'll  go  home  to  breakfast,  and  I  '11  be  quite 
satisfied  if  I  see  you  at  luncheon,"  said  Kate. 

"Do,  pray,  Mr.  Curtis,  tell  me  all  about  it.  Why  do 
some  people  shoot  the  others  who  are  just  as  much  Irish  as 
themselves?  Why  do  hungry  people  kill  the  cattle  and 
never  eat  them?  And  why  don't  the  English  go  away  and 
leave  a  country  where  nobody  likes  them?  If  there  be  a 
reason  for  these  things,  let  me  hear  it." 

"By-by,"  said  Kate,  waving  her  hand,  as  she  turned 
away. 

"You  are  so  ungenerous,"  cried  Nina,  hurrying  after  her; 
"I  am  a  stranger,  and  would  naturally  like  to  learn  all  that 
I  could  of  the  country  and  the  people ;  here  is  a  gentleman 
full  of  the  very  knowledge  I  am  seeking.  lEIe  knows  all 
about  these  terrible  Fenians.  What  will  they  do  with  Don- 
ogan  if  they  take  him?  " 

"Transport  him  for  life;  they  '11  not  hang  him,  I  think." 

"That 's  worse  than  hanging.  I  mean  —  that  is  —  Miss 
Kearney  would  rather  they  'd  hang  him." 

"I  have  not  said  so,"  replied  Kate;  "and  I  don't  suspect 
I  think  so,  either." 


330  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"Well,"  said  Nina,  after  a  pause,  "let  us  go  back  to 
breakfast.  You'll  see  Mr.  Walpole;  he  's  sure  to  be  down 
by  that  time;  and  I'll  tell  him  what  you  wish  is  that  he 
must  not  think  any  more  of  the  incident-;  that  it  was  a 
piece  of  official  stupidity,  done,  of  course,  out  of  the  best 
motives,  and  that  if  he  should  cut  a  ridiculous  figure  at  the 
end,  he  has  only  hirnself  to  blame  for  the  worse  than 
ambiguity  of  his  private  papers." 

"I  do  not  know  that  I'd  exactly  say  that,"  said  Kate, 
who  felt  some  difficulty  in  not  laughing  at  the  horror-struck 
expression  of  Mr.  Curtis' s  face. 

"  Well,  then,  I  '11  say  —  this  was  what  I  wished  to  tell 
you,  but  my  cousin  Kate  interposed  and  suggested  that  a 
little  adroit  flattery  of  you,  and  some  small  coquetries  that 
might  make  you  believe  you  were  charming,  would  be  the 
readiest  mode  to  make  you  forget  anything  disagreeable, 
and  she  would  charge  herself  with  the  task." 

"Do  so,"  said  Kate,  calmly;  "and  let  us  now  go  back  to 
breakfast." 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

SOME    IRISHRIES. 

That  which  the  English  irreverently  call  *^ chaff "  enters 
largely  as  an  element  into  Irish  life;  and  when  Walpole 
stigmatized  the  habit  to  Joe  Atlee  as  essentially  that  of  the 
smaller  island,  he  was  not  far  wrong.  I  will  not  say  that 
it  is  a  high  order  of  wit,  very  elegant  or  very  refined ;  but 
it  is  a  strong  incentive  to  good  humor,  a  vent  to  good 
spirits;  and  being  a  weapon  which  every  Irishman  can 
wield  in  some  fashion  or  other,  establishes  that  sort  of 
joust  which  prevailed  in  the  melee  tournaments,  and  where 
each  tilted  with  whom  he  pleased. 

Any  one  who  has  witnessed  the  progress  of  an  Irish  trial, 
even  when  the  crime  was  of  the  very  gravest,  cannot  fail  to 
have  been  struck  by  the  continual  clash  of  smart  remark 
and  smarter  rejoinder  between  the  bench  and  the  bar; 
showing  how  men  feel  the  necessity  of  ready-wittedness, 
and  a  promptitude  to  repel  attack,  in  which  even  the  pris- 
oner in  the  dock  takes  his  share,  and  cuts  his  joke  at  the 
most  critical  moment  of  his  existence. 

The  Irish  theatre  always  exhibits  traits  of  this  national 
taste;  but  a  dinner-party,  with  its  due  infusion  of  barris- 
ters, is  the  best  possible  exemplification  of  this  give  and 
take,  which,  even  if  it  had  no  higher  merit,  is  a  powerful 
ally  of  good  humor,  and  the  sworn  foe  to  everything  like 
over-irritability  or  morbid  self-esteem.  Indeed,  I  could 
not  wish  a  very  conceited  man,  of  a  somewhat  grave  tem- 
perament and  distant  demeanor,  a  much  heavier  punishment 
than  a  course  of  Irish  dinner-parties;  for  even  though  he 
should  come  out  scathless  himself,  the  outrages  to  his  sense 
of  propriety  and  the  insults  to  his  ideas  of  taste  would  be 
a  severe  suffering. 


332  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

That  breakfast-table  at  Kilgobbin  had  some  heavy  hearts 
around  the  board.  There  was  not,  with  the  exception  of 
Walpole,  one  there  who  had  not,  in  the  doubts  that  beset 
his  future,  grave  cause  for  anxiety ;  and  yet  to  look  at,  still 
more  to  listen  to  them,  you  would  have  said  that  Walpole 
alone  had  any  load  of  care  upon  his  heart,  and  that  the 
others  were  a  light-hearted,  happy  set  of  people,  with  whom 
the  world  went  always  well.  No  cloud !  —  not  even  a 
shadow  to  darken  the  road  before  them.  Of  this  levity,  — 
for  I  suppose  I  must  give  it  a  hard  name,  —  the  source  of 
much  that  is  best  and  worst  amongst  us,  our  English  rulers 
take  no  account,  and  are  often  as  ready  to  charge  us  with  a 
conviction  which  was  no  more  than  a  caprice  as  they  are 
to  nail  us  down  to  some  determination  which  was  simply 
a  drollery ;  and  until  some  intelligent  traveller  does  for  us 
what  I  lately  perceived  a  clever  tourist  did  for  the  Japanese, 
in  explaining  their  modes  of  thought,  impulses,  and  pas- 
sions to  the  English,  I  despair  of  our  being  better  known  in 
Downing  Street  than  we  now  are. 

Captain  Curtis  —  for  it  is  right  to  give  him  his  rank  — 
was  fearfully  nervous  and  uneasy ;  and  though  he  tried  to 
eat  his  breakfast  with  an  air  of  unconcern  and  carelessness, 
he  broke  his  egg  with  a  tremulous  hand,  and  listened  with 
painful  eagerness  every  time  Walpole  spoke. 

''I  wish  somebody  would  send  us  the  '  Standard.'  When 
it  is  known  that  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  secretary  has  turned 
Fenian,"  said  Kilgobbin,  "won't  there  be  a  grand  Tory 
outcry  over  the  unprincipled  Whigs !  " 

"The  papers  need  know  nothing  whatever  of  the  inci- 
dent," interposed  Curtis,  anxiously,  "if  old  Flood  is  not 
busy  enough  to  inform  them." 

"Who  is  old  Flood?"  asked  Walpole. 

"A  Tory  J.  P.  who  has  copied  out  a  considerable  share 
of  your  correspondence,"  said  Kilgobbin. 

"And  four  letters  in  a  lady's  hand,"  added  Dick,  "that 
he  imagines  to  be  a  treasonable  correspondence  by  sym- 
bol." 

"I  hope  Mr.  Walpole,"  said  Kate,  "will  rather  accept 
felony  to  the  law  than  falsehood  to  the  lady." 

"You  don't   mean  to  say  —  "  began  Walpole,  angrily; 


SOME   IRISHRIES.  333 

then  correcting  his  irritable  manner,  he  added,  "Am  I  to 
suppose  my  letters  have  been  read?" 

''Well,  roughly  looked  through,"  said  Curtis.  "Just  a 
glance  here  and  there  to  catch  what  they  meant." 

"Which  I  must  say  was  quite  unnecessary,"  said  Wal- 
pole,  haughtily. 

"It  was  a  sort  of  journal  of  yours,"  blundered  out  Curtis, 
who  had  a  most  unhappy  knack  of  committing  himself, 
"that  they  opened  first,  and  they  saw  an  entry  with  Kilgob- 
bin  Castle  at  the  top  of  it,  and  the  date  last  July." 

"There  was  nothing  political  in  that,  I  'm  sure,"  said 
Walpole. 

"No,  not  exactly,  but  a  trifle  rebellious  all  the  same;  the 
words  '  we  this  evening  learned  a  Fenian  song,  "The  time 
to  begin,"  and  rather  suspect  it  is  time  to  leave  off;  the 
Greek  better-looking  than  ever,  and  more  dangerous. '  " 

Curtis' s  last  words  were  drowned  in  the  laugh  that  now 
shook  the  table ;  indeed,  except  Walpole  and  Nina  herself, 
they  actually  roared  with  laughter,  which  burst  out  afresh 
as  Curtis,  in  his  innocence,  said,  "We  could  not  make  out 
about  the  Greek,  but  we  hoped  we  'd  find  out  later  on." 

"And  I  fervently  trust  you  did,"  said  Kilgobbin. 

"I'm  afraid  not;  there  was  something  about  somebody 
called  Joe,  that  the  Greek  would  n't  have  him,  or  disliked 
him,  or  snubbed  him,  —  indeed,  I  forget  the  words." 

"You  are  quite  right,  sir,  to  distrust  your  memory,"  said 
Walpole;  "it  has  betrayed  you  most  egregiously  already." 

"On  the  contrary,"  burst  in  Kilgobbin,  "I  am  delighted 
with  this  proof  of  the  Captain's  acuteness;  tell  us  some- 
thing more,  Curtis." 

"There  was  then  '  From  the  upper  castle  yard,  Maude,' 
whoever  Maude  is,  '  says,  "Deny  it  all,  and  say  you  never 
were  there,"  —  not  so  easy  as  she  thinks,  with  a  broken 
right  arm,  and  a  heart  not  quite  so  whole  as  it  ought  to 
be.'" 

"There,  sir,  — with  the  permission  of  my  friends  here,  — 
I  will  ask  you  to  conclude  your  reminiscences  of  my  private 
papers,  which  can  have  no  possible  interest  for  any  one  but 
myself." 

"Quite  wrong  in  that,"  cried  Kilgobbin,  wiping  his  eyes, 


334  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

which  had  run  over  with  laughter.  "There  's  nothing  I  'd 
like  so  much  as  to  hear  more  of  them." 

"What  was  that  about  his  heart?"  whispered  Curtis  to 
Kate;  "was  he  wounded  in  the  side  also?  " 

"I  believe  so,"  said  she,  dryly;  "but  I  believe  he  has 
got  quite  over  it  by  this  time." 

"Will  you  say  a  word  or  two  about  me.  Miss  Kearney?" 
whispered  he  again.  "I  'm  not  sure  I  improved  my  case  by 
talking  so  freely;  but  as  I  saw  you  all  so  outspoken,  I 
thought  I'd  fall  into  your  ways." 

"  Captain  Curtis  is  much  concerned  for  any  fault  he  may 
have  committed  in  this  unhappy  business,"  said  Kate; 
"and  he  trusts  that  the  agitation  and  excitement  of  the 
Donogan  escape  will  excuse  him." 

"That 's  your  policy  now,"  interposed  Kilgobbin.  "Catch 
the  Fenian  fellow,  and  nobody  will  remember  the  other 
incident." 

"  We  mean  to  give  out  that  we  know  he  has  got  clear  away 
to  America,"  said  Curtis,  with  an  air  of  intense  cunning. 
"And  to  lull  his  suspicions  we  have  notices  in  print  to  say 
that  no  further  rewards  are  to  be  given  for  his  apprehension, 
so  that  he  '11  get  a  false  confidence,  and  move  about  as 
before." 

"  With  such  acuteness  as  yours  on  his  trail,  his  arrest  is 
certain,"  said  Walpole,  gravely. 

"Well,  I  hope  so,  too,"  said  Curtis,  in  good  faith  for  the 
compliment.  "  Did  n't  I  take  up  nine  men  for  the  search  of 
arms  here,  though  there  were  only  five?  One  of  them 
turned  evidence,"  added  he,  gravely;  "he  was  the  fellow 
that  swore  Miss  Kearney  stood  between  you  and  the  fire 
after  they  wounded  you." 

"You  are  determined  to  make  Mr.  Walpole  your  friend," 
whispered  Nina  in  his  ear;  "don't  you  see,  sir,  that  you  are 
ruining  yourself?  " 

"I  have  often  been  puzzled  to  explain  how  it  was  that 
crime  went  unpunished  in  Ireland,"  said  Walpole,  senten- 
tiously. 

"And  you  know  now?  "  asked  Curtis. 

"Yes;  in  a  great  measure,  you  have  supplied  me  with 
the  information." 


SOME  lEISHRIES.  335 


((- 


'I  believe  it's  all  right  now,"  muttered  the  Captain  to 
Kate.  "If  the  swell  owns  that  I  have  put  him  up  to  a  thing 
or  two,  he  '11  not  throw  me  over." 

"Would  you  give  me  three  minutes  of  your  time?  "  whis- 
pered Gorman  O'Shea  to  Lord  Kilgobbin,  as  they  arose 
from  table. 

"Half  an  hour,  my  boy,  or  more  if  you  want  it.  Come 
along  with  me  now  into  my  study,  and  we  '11  be  safe  there 
from  all  interruption." 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

SAGE    ADVICE. 

"  So,  then,  you  're  in  a  hobble  with  your  aunt, "  said  Mr. 
Kearney,  as  he  believed  he  had  summed  up  the  meaning  of 
a  very  blundering  explanation  by  Gorman  O'Shea;  "isn't 
that  it?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  suppose  it  comes  to  that." 

"The  old  story,  I  've  no  doubt,  if  we  only  knew  it,  — as 
old  as  the  Patriarchs;  the  young  ones  go  into  debt,  and 
think  it  very  hard  that  the  elders  dislike  the  paying  it." 

"No,  no,  I  haVe  no  debts;  at  least,  none  to  speak  of." 

"It's  a  woman,  then?  Have  you  gone  and  married  some 
good-looking  girl  with  no  fortune  and  less  family?  Who 
is  she?" 

"Not  even  that,  sir,"  said  he,  half  impatient  at  seeing 
how  little  attention  had  been  bestowed  on  his  narrative. 

"'Tis  bad  enough,  no  doubt,"  continued  the  old  man, 
still  in  pursuit  of  his  own  reflections ;  "not  but  there  's  scores 
of  things  worse ;  for  if  a  man  is  a  good  fellow  at  heart,  he  '11 
treat  the  woman  all  the  better  for  what  she  has  cost  him. 
That  is  one  of  the  good  sides  of  selfishness ;  and  when  you 
have  lived  as  long  as  me,  Gorman,  you  '11  find  out  how  often 
there  's  something  good  to  be  squeezed  out  of  a  bad  quality, 
just  as  though  it  were  a  bit  of  our  nature  that  was  depraved, 
but  not  gone  to  the  devil  entirely." 

"There  is  no  woman  in  the  case  here,  sir,"  said  O'Shea, 
bluntly,  for  these  speculations  only  irritated  him. 

"Ho,  ho!  I  have  it  then,"  cried  the  old  man.  "You  've 
been  burning  your  fingers  with  rebellion.  It 's  the  Fenians 
have  got  a  hold  of  you." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,  sir.  If  you'll  just  read  these 
two  letters.     The  one  is  mine,  written  on  the   morning  I 


SAGE  ADVICE.  337 

came  here;  here  is  my  aunt's.  The  first  is  not  word  for 
word  as  I  sent  it,  but  as  well  as  I  can  remember.  At  all 
events,  it  will  show  how  little  I  had  provoked  the  answer. 
There,  that 's  the  document  that  came  along  with  my  trunks, 
and  I  have  never  heard  from  her  since." 

*'  '  Dear  Nephew,'  "  read  out  the  old  man,  after  patiently 
adjusting  his  spectacles,  "  '  O' Shea's  Barn  is  not  an  inn,' 
—  And  more's  the  pity,"  added  he;  "for  it  would  be  a 
model  house  of  entertainment.  You  'd  say  any  one  could 
have  a  sirloin  of  beef  or  a  saddle  of  mutton ;  but  where  Miss 
Betty  gets  hers  is  quite  beyond  me.  '  Nor  are  the  horses  at 
public  livery,'  "  read  he  out.  "I  think  I  may  say,  if  they 
were,  that  Kattoo  won't  be  hired  out  again  to  the  young 
man  that  took  her  over  the  fences.  'As  you  seem  fond  of 
warnings,'  "  continued  he,  aloud,  —  "Ho,  ho!  that 's  at  you 
for  coming  over  here  to  tell  me  about  the  search-warrant; 
and  she  tells  you  to  mind  your  own  business;  and  droll 
enough  it  is.  We  always  fancy  we  're  saying  an  imperti- 
nence to  a  man  when  we  tell  him  to  attend  to  what  concerns 
him  most.  It  shows,  at  least,  that  we  think  meddling  a 
luxury.  And  then  she  adds,  '  Kilgobbin  is  welcome  to  you,' 
and  I  can  only  say  you  are  welcome  to  Kilgobbin,  —  ay, 
and  in  her  own  words,  — '  with  such  regularity  and  order  as 
the  meals  succeed.'  —  '  All  the  luggage  belonging  to  you,' 
&c. ,  and  '  I  am  very  respectfully,  your  Aunt. '  By  my  con- 
science, there  was  no  need  to  sign  it !  That  was  old  Miss 
Betty  all  the  world  over!  "  and  he  laughed  till  his  eyes  ran 
over,  though  the  rueful  face  of  young  O' Shea  was  staring  at 
him  all  the  time.  "Don't  look  so  gloomy,  O'Shea,"  cried 
Kearney.  "I  have  not  so  good  a  cook,  nor,  I  'm  sorry  to 
say,  so  good  a  cellar,  as  at  the  Barn ;  but  there  are  young 
faces,  and  young  voices,  and  young  laughter,  and  a  light 
step  on  the  stairs ;  and  if  I  know  anything,  or  rather,  if  I 
remember  anything,  these  will  warm  a  heart  at  your  age 
better  than  '44  claret  or  the  crustiest  port  that  ever  stained 
a  decanter." 

"I  am  turned  out,  sir,  — sent  adrift  on  the  world,"  said 
the  young  man,  despondently. 

"And  it  is  not  so  bad  a  thing  after  all,  take  my  word  for 
it,  boy.     It 's  a  great  advantage,  now  and  then,  to  begin  life 

22 


338  LOKD  KILGOBBIN. 

as  a  vagabond.  It  takes  a  deal  of  snobbery  out  of  a  fellow 
to  lie  under  a  haystack,  and  there's  no  better  cure  for  pre- 
tension than  a  dinner  of  cold  potatoes.  Not  that  I  say  you 
need  the  treatment,  —  far  from  it ;  but  our  distinguished 
friend  Mr.  Walpole  wouldn't  be  a  bit  the  worse  of  such  an 
alterative." 

"If  I  am  left  without  a  shilling  in  the  world?  " 

"Then  you  must  try  what  you  can  do  on  sixpence;  the 
whole  thing  is  how  you  begin.  I  used  not  to  be  able  to 
eat  my  dinner  when  I  did  not  see  the  fellow  in  a  white  tie 
standing  before  the  sideboard,  and  the  two  flunkies  in  plush 
and  silk  stockings  at  either  side  of  the  table;  and  when  I 
perceived  that  the  decanters  had  taken  their  departure,  and 
that  it  was  beer  I  was  given  to  drink,  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
dined,  and  was  ready  to  go  out  and  have  a  smoke  in  the 
open  air;  but  a  little  time,  even  without  any  patience,  but 
just  time,  does  it  all." 

"Time  won't  teach  a  man  to  live  upon  nothing." 

"It  would  be  very  hard  for  him  if  it  did;  let  him  begin 
by  having  few  wants,  and  work  hard  to  supply  means  for 
them." 

"Work  hard!  Why,  sir,  if  I  labored  from  daylight  to 
dark,  I  'd  not  earn  the  wages  of  the  humblest  peasant,  and 
I  'd  not  know  how  to  live  on  it." 

"Well,  I  have  given  you  all  the  philosophy  in  my  budget; 
and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Gorman,  except  so  far  as  coming 
down  in  the  world  in  spite  of  myself,  I  know  mighty  little 
about  the  fine  precepts  I  have  been  giving  you;  but  this  I 
know,  you  have  a  roof  over  your  head  here,  and  you  're 
heartily  welcome  to  it;  and  who  knows  but  your  aunt 
may  come  to  terms  all  the  sooner,  because  she  sees  you 
here?" 

"You  are  very  generous  to  me,  and  I  feel  it  deeply,"  said 
the  young  man ;  but  he  was  almost  choked  with  the  words. 

"You  have  told  me  already,  Gorman,  that  your  aunt  gave 
you  no  other  reason  against  coming  here  than  that  I  had  not 
been  to  call  on  you ;  and  I  believe  you,  —  believe  you  thor- 
oughly; but  tell  m.e  now,  with  the  same  frankness,  was 
there  nothing  passing  in  your  mind, — had  you  no  suspi- 
cions or  misgivings,  or  something  of  the  same  kind,  to  keep 


SAGE  ADVICE.  339 

you  away?  Be  candid  with  me  now,  and  speak  it  out 
freely." 

"None,  on  my  honor.  I  was  sorely  grieved  to  be  told 
I  must  not  come,  and  thought  very  often  of  rebelling,  so 
that,  indeed,  when  I  did  rebel,  I  was  in  a  measure  prepared 
for  the  penalty,  though  scarcely  so  heavy  as  this." 

"Don't  take  it  to  heart.  It  will  come  right  yet;  every- 
thing comes  right  if  we  give  it  time,  and  there  's  plenty  of 
time  to  the  fellow  who  is  not  five-and-twenty.  It 's  only 
the  old  dogs,  like  myself,  who  are  always  doing  their  match 
against  time,  are  in  a  hobble.  To  feel  that  every  minute 
of  the  clock  is  something  very  like  three  weeks  of  the 
almanac,  flurries  a  man  when  he  wants  to  be  cool  and  col- 
lected. Put  your  hat  on  a  peg,  and  make  your  home  here. 
If  you  want  to  be  of  use,  Kitty  will  show  you  scores  of 
things  to  do  about  the  garden,  and  we  never  object  to  see 
a  brace  of  snipe  at  the  end  of  dinner,  though  there 's  nobody 
cares  to  shoot  them ;  and  the  bog  trout  —  for  all  their  dark 
color  —  are  excellent  catch,  and  I  know  you  can  throw  a 
line.  All  I  say  is,  do  something,  and  something  that  takeaj 
you  into  the  open  air.  Don't  get  to  lying  about  in  easy-j 
chairs  and  reading  novels;  don't  get  to  singing  duets  and 
philandering  about  with  the  girls.  May  I  never,  if  I  'd  not. 
rather  find  a  brandy  flask  in  your  pocket  than  Tennyson's; 
poems ! " 


CHAPTER  XL VII. 

REPROOF. 

"Say  it  out  frankly,  Kate,"  cried  Nina,  as  with  flashing 
eyes  and  heightened  color  she  paced  the  drawing-room  from 
end  to  end,  with  that  bold  sweeping  stride  which  in  moments 
of  passion  betrayed  her.  "Say  it  out.  1  know  perfectly 
what  you  are  hinting  at." 

"I  never  hint,"  said  the  other,  gravely;  "least  of  all  with 
those  I  love." 

"So  much  the  better.  I  detest  an  equivoque.  If  I  am 
to  be  shot,  let  me  look  the  fire  in  the  face." 

"There  is  no  question  of  shooting,  at  all.  I  think  you  are 
very  angry  for  nothing." 

"Angry  for  nothing!  Do  you  call  that  studied  coldness 
you  have  observed  towards  me  all  day  yesterday  nothing  ? 
Is  your  ceremonious  manner,  —  exquisitely  polite,  I  will  not 
deny,  —  is  that  nothing  ?  Is  your  chilling  salute  when  we 
met,  — I  half  believe  you  courtesied,  —  nothing?  That  you 
shun  me,  that  you  take  pains  not  to  keep  my  company,  never 
to  be  with  me  alone,  is  past  denial." 

"And  I  do  not  deny  it,"  said  Kate,  with  a  voice  of  calm 
and  quiet  meaning. 

"At  last,  then,  I  have  the  avowal.  You  own  that  you  love 
me  no  longer." 

"No,  I  own  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  love  you  very  dearly; 
but  I  see  that  our  ideas  of  life  are  so  totally  unlike,  that 
unless  one  should  bend  and  conform  to  the  other,  we  cannot 
blend  our  thoughts  in  that  harmony  which  perfect  confidence 
requires.  You  are  so  much  above  me  in  many  things,  so 
much  more  cultivated  and  gifted,  —  I  was  going  to  say 
civilized,  and  I  believe  I  might  — " 


REPROOF.  341 

"Ta^ta  —  ta,"  cried  Nina,  impatiently.  ''These  flat- 
teries are  very  ill-timed." 

"So  they  would  be  if  they  were  flatteries;  but  if  you  had 
patience  to  hear  me  out,  you  'd  have  learned  that  I  meant  a 
higher  flattery  for  myself." 

"Don't  I  know  it?  don't  I  guess?"  cried  the  Greek. 
"Have  not  your  downcast  eyes  told  it?  and  that  look  of 
sweet  humility  that  says,  '  At  least,  I  am  not  a  flirt '  ?  " 

"  Nor  am  I,"  said  Kate,  coldly. 

"  And  I  am!  Come,  now,  do  confess.  You  want  to  say 
it." 

"  With  all  my  heart  I  wish  you  were  not !  "  And  Kate's 
eyes  swam  as  she  spoke. 

"  And  what  if  I  tell  you  that  I  know  it,  — that  in  the  very 
employment  of  the  arts  of  what  you  call  coquetry,  I  am  but 
exercising  those  powers  of  pleasing  by  which  men  are  led  to 
frequent  the  salon  instead  of  the  cafe,  and  like  the  society 
of  the  Cultivated  and  refined  better  than  —  " 

"  No,  no,  po !  "  burst  in  Kate.  "  There  is  no  such  mock 
principle  in  the  cas^.  You  are  a  flirt  because  you  like  the 
homage  it  secures  you,  and  because,  as  you  do  not  believe 
in  such  a  thing  as  an  honest  affection,  you  have  no  scruple 
about  trifling  with  a  man's  heart." 

"  So  much  for  captivating  that  bold  hussar,"  cried  Nina. 

"  For  the  moment  I  was  not  thinking  of  him." 

"  Of  whom  then?  " 

"  Of  that  poor  Captain  Curtis,  who  has  just  ridden  away." 

"Oh,  indeed!" 

"Yes.  He  has  a  pretty  wife  and  three  nice  little  girls, 
and  they  are  the  happiest  people  in  the  world.  They  love 
each  other,  and  love  their  home,  —  so,  at  least,  I  am  told, 
for  I  scarcely  know  them  myself." 

"  And  what  have  I  done  with  Jiimf" 

"  Sent  him  away  sad  and  doubtful,  — very  doubtful  if  the 
happiness  he  believed  in  was  the  real  article  after  all,  and 
disposed  to  ask  himself  how  it  was  that  his  heart  was  beat- 
ing in  a  new  fashion,  and  that  some  new  sense  had  been 
added  to  his  nature,  of  which  he  had  no  inkling  before. 
Sent  him  away  with  the  notes  of  a  melody  floating  through 
his  brain,  so  that  the  merry  laugh  of  his  children  will  be  a 


342  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

discord,  and  such  a  memory  of  a  soft  glance,  that  his  wife's 
bright  look  will  be  meaningless." 

''  And  I  have  done  all  this?     Poor  me  !  " 

''Yes,  and  done  it  so  often,  that  it  leaves  no  remorse 
behind  it." 

"And  the  same,  I  suppose,  with  the  others?" 

"With  Mr.  Walpole,  and  Dick,  and  Mr.  O'Shea,  and  Mr. 
Atlee,  too,  when  he  was  here,  in  their  several  ways." 

"  Oh,  in  theirs,  not  in  mine,  then?  " 

"  I  am  but  a  bungler  in  my  explanation.  I  wished  to  say 
that  you  adapted  your  fascinations  to  the  tastes  of  each." 

' '  What  a  siren !  " 

"Well,  yes,  —  what  a  siren!  for  they're  all  in  love  in 
some  fashion  or  other ;  but  I  could  have  forgiven  you  these, 
had  you  spared  the  married  man." 

"  So  you  actually  envy  that  poor  prisoner  the  gleam  of 
light  and  the  breath  of  cold  air  that  comes  between  his 
prison  bars,  —  that  one  moment  of  ecstasy  that  reminds  him 
how  he  once  was  free  and  at  large,  and  no  manacles  to 
weigh  him  down?  You  will  not  let  him  even  touch  bliss  in 
imagination  ?     Are  you  not  more  cruel  than  me  9  " 

"  This  is  mere  nonsense,"  said  Kate,  boldly.  "  You 
either  believe  that  man  was  fooling  you^  or  that  you  have 
sent  him  away  unhappy.     Take  which  of  these  you  like." 

"  Can't  your  rustic  nature  see  that  there  is  a  third  case, 
quite  different  from  both,  and  that  Harry  Curtis  went  off 
believing  —  " 

"  Was  he  Harry  Curtis?  "  broke  in  Kate. 

"  He  was  dear  Harry  when  I  said  good-bye,"  said  Nina, 
calmly. 

"  Oh,  then,  I  give  up  everything,  — I  throw  up  my  brief.'* 

"  So  you  ought,  for  you  have  lost  your  cause  long  ago." 

"Even  that  poor  Donogan  was  not  spared,  and  Heaven 
knows  he  had  troubles  enough  on  his  head  to  have  pleaded 
some  pity  for  him." 

"  And  is  there  no  kind  word  to  say  of  me,  Kate?  " 

"  Oh,  Nina,  how  ashamed  you  make  me  of  my  violence, 
when  I  dare  to  blame  you !  but  if  I  did  not  love  you  so 
dearly  I  could  better  bear  you  should  have  a  fault." 

"  I  have  only  one,  then?  " 


REPROOF.  343 

"I  know  of  no  great  one  but  this.  I  mean,  I  know  of 
none  that  endangers  good  nature  and  right  fe^Ung." 

''And  are  you  so  sure  that  this  does?  Are  you  so  sure 
that  what  you  are  faulting  is  not  the  manner  and  the  way  of 
a  world  you  have  not  seen?  that  all  these  levities,  as  you 
would  call  them,  are  not  the  ordinary  ware  of  people  whose 
lives  are  passed  where  there  is  more  tolerance  and  less 
pain?" 

''  Be  serious,  Nina,  for  a  moment,  and  own  that  it  was  by 
intention  you  were  in  the  approach  when  Captain  Curtis  rode 
away,  —  that  you  said  something  to  him,  or  looked  some- 
thing—perhaps both  — on  which  he  got  down  from  his 
horse  and  walked  beside  you  for  full  a  mile?" 

"  All  true,"  said  Nina,  calmly.  "  I  confess  to  every  part 
of  it." 

''  I  'd  far  rather  that  you  said  you  were  sorry  for  it." 

"  But  I  am  not ;  I  'm  very  glad,  —  I  'm  very  proud  of  it. 
Yes,  look  as  reproachfully  as  you  like,  Kate  !  *  very  proud ' 
was  what  I  said." 

"Then  I  am  indeed  sorry,"  said  Kate,  growing  pale  as 
she  spoke. 

"I  don't  think  after  all  this  sharp  lecturing  of  me  that 
you  deserve  much  of  my  confidence,  and  if  I  make  you  any, 
Kate,  it  is  not  by  way  of  exculpation ;  for  I  do  not  accept 
your  blame ;  it  is  simply  out  of  caprice  —  mind  that,  and 
that  I  am  not  thinking  of  defending  myself." 

'^  I  can  easily  believe  that,"  said  Kate,  dryly. 

And  the  other  continued :  ' '  When  Captain  Curtis  was 
talking  to  your  father,  and  discussing  the  chances  of  cap- 
turing Donogan,  he  twice  or  thrice  mentioned  Harper  and 
Fry,  —  names  which  somehow  seemed  familiar  to  me ;  and 
on  thinking  the  matter  over  when  I  went  to  my  room,  I 
opened  Donogan's  pocket-book,  and  there  found  how  these 
names  had  become  known  to  me.  Harper  and  Fry  were 
tanners,  in  Cork  Street,  and  theirs  was  one  of  the  addresses 
by  which,  if  I  had  occasion  to  warn  Donogan,  I  could  write 
to  him.  On  hearing  these  names  from  Curtis,  it  struck  me 
that  there  might  be  treachery  somewhere.  Was  it  that 
these  men  themselves  had  turned  traitors  to  the  cause?  or 
had  another   betrayed  them?     Whicliever   way   the   matter 


344  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

went,  Donogan  was  evidently  in  great  danger ;  for  this  was 
one  of  the  places  he  regarded  as  perfectly  safe. 

' '  What  was  to  be  done  ?  I  dared  not  asked  advice  on  any 
side.  To  reveal  the  suspicions  which  were  tormenting  me 
required  that  I  should  produce  this  pocket-book,  and  to 
whom  could  I  impart  this  man's  secret?  I  thought  of 
your  brother  Dick,  but  he  was  from  home,  and  even  if  he 
had  not  been,  I  doubt  if  I  should  have  told  him.  I  should 
have  come  to  you,  Kate,  but  that  grand  rebukeful  tone  you 
had  taken  up  this  last  twenty-four  hours  repelled  me ;  and 
finally,  I  took  counsel  with  myself.  I  set  off  just  before 
Captain  Curtis  started,  to  what  you  have  called  waylay  him 
in  the  avenue. 

''Just  below  the  beech-copse  he  came  up;  and  then  that 
small  flirtation  of  the  drawing-room,  which  has  caused  you 
so  much  anger  and  me  such  a  sharp  lesson,  stood  me  in 
good  stead,  and  enabled  me  to  arrest  his  progress  by  some 
chance  word  or  two,  and  at  last  so  far  to  interest  him  that 
he  got  down  and  walked  along  at  my  side.  I  shall  not 
shock  you  by  recalling  the  little  tender  '  nothings  '  that 
passed  between  us,  nor  dwell  on  the  small  mockeries  of 
sentiment  which  we  exchanged,  —  I  hope  very  harmlessly,  — 
but  proceed  at  once  to  what  I  felt  my  object.  He  was 
profuse  of  his  gratitude  for  what  I  had  done  for  him  with 
Walpole,  and  firmly  believed  that  my  intercession  alone  had 
saved  him ;  and  so  I  went  on  to  say  that  the  best  reparation 
he  could  make  for  his  blunder  would  be  some  exercise  of 
well-directed  activity  when  occasion  should  offer.  '  Sup- 
pose, for  instance,'  said  I,  '  you  could  capture  this  man 
Donogan  ? ' 

"  '  The  very  thing  I  hope  to  do,'  cried  he.  '  The  train  is 
laid  already.  One  of  my  constables  has  a  brother  in  a  well- 
known  house  in  Dublin,  the  members  of  which,  men  of 
large  wealth  and  good  position,  have  long  been  suspected  of, 
holding  intercourse  with  the  rebels.  Through  his  brother, 
himself  a  Fenian,  this  man  has  heard  that  a  secret  committee 
will  meet  at  this  place  on  Monday  evening  next,  at  which 
Donogan  will  be  present.  Molloy,  another  Head-Centre,  will 
also  be  there,  and  Cummings,  who  escaped  from  Carrick- 
fergus.'     I  took  down  all  the  names,  Kate,  the  moment  we 


EEPROOF.  345 

parted,  and  while  they  were  fresh  in  my  memory.  '  We  '11 
draw  the  net  on  them  all/  said  he;  '  and  such  a  haul  has 
not  been  made  since  '98.  The  rewards  alone  will  amount 
to  some  thousands.'  It  was  then  I  said,  '  And  is  tliere  no 
danger,  Harry  ?  '  " 

"Oh,  Nina!" 

"Yes,  darling,  it  was  very  dreadful,  and  I  felt  it  so;  but 
somehow  one  is  carried  away  by  a  burst  of  feeling  at  certain 
moments,  and  the  shame  only  comes  too  late.  Of  course  it 
was  wrong  of  me  to  call  him  Harry,  and  he,  too,  with  a 
wife  at  home,  and  five  little  girls,  —  or  three,  I  forget  which, 
—  should  never  have  sworn  that  he  loved  me,  nor  said  all 
that  mad  nonsense  about  what  he  felt  in  that  region  where 
chief  constables  have  their  hearts;  but  I  own  to  great 
tenderness  and  a  very  touching  sensibility  on  either  side. 
Indeed,  I  may  add  here,  that  the  really  sensitive  natures 
amongst  men  are  never  found  under  forty-five;  but  for 
genuine  uncalculating  affection,  for  the  sort  of  devotion  that 
flings  consequences  to  the  winds,  I  say,  give  me  fifty-eight 
or  sixty." 

"  Nina,  do  not  make  me  hate  you,"  said  Kate,  gravely. 

"  Certainly  not,  dearest,  if  a  little  hypocrisy  will  avert 
such  a  misfortune.  And  so  to  return  to  my  narrative,  I 
learned  as  accurately  as  a  gentleman  so  much  in  love  could 
condescend  to  inform  me,  of  all  the  steps  taken  to  secure 
Donogan  at  this  meeting,  or  to  capture  him  later  on  if  he 
should  try  to  make  his  escape  by  sea." 

"  You  mean,  then,  to  write  to  Donogan  and  apprise  him 
of  his  danger?  " 

"It  is  done.  I  wrote  the  moment  I  got  back  here.  I 
addressed  him  as  Mr.  James  Bredin,  care  of  Jonas  Mullory, 
Esq.,  41  New  Street,  which  was  the  first  address  in  the  list 
he  gave  me.  I  told  him  of  the  peril  he  ran,  and  what  his 
friends  were  also  threatened  by,  and  I  recounted  the  absurd 
seizure  of  Mr.  Walpole's  effects  here ;  and,  last  of  all,  what 
a  dangerous  rival  he  had  in  this  Captain  Curtis,  who  was 
ready  to  desert  wife,  children,  and  the  constabulary  to- 
morrow for  me ;  and  assuring  him  confidentially  that  I  was 
well  worth  greater  sacrifices  of  better  men,  I  signed  my 
initials  in  Greek  letters." 


346  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 


"  Marvellous  caution  and  great  discretion,"  said  Kate, 
solemnly. 

"  And  now  come  over  to  the  drawing-room,  where  I  have 
promised  to  sing  for  Mr.  O'Shea  some  little  ballad  that  he 
dreamed  over  all  the  night  through ;  and  then  there 's  some- 
thing else,  — what  is  it?  what  is  it?  " 

"  How  should  I  know,  Nina?  I  was  not  present  at  your 
arrangement." 

"  Never  mind  ;  I  '11  remember  it  presently.  It  will  come 
to  my  recollection  while  I  'm  singing  that  song." 

*'  If  emotion  is  not  too  much  for  you." 

''  Just  so,  Kate,  —  sensibilities  permitting ;  and,  indeed,'"' 
she  said,  "  I  remember  it  already.     It  was  luncheon." 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

HOW   MEN    IN    OFFICE    MAKE    LOVE. 

"Is  it  true  they  have  captured  Donogan?"  said  Nina, 
coming  hurriedly  into  the  library,  where  Walpole  was  busily 
engaged  with  his  correspondence,  and  sat  before  a  table 
covered  not  only  with  official  documents,  but  a  number  of 
printed  placards  and  handbills. 

He  looked  up,  surprised  at  her  presence,  and  by  the  tone 
of  familiarity  in  her  question,  for  which  he  was  in  no  way 
prepared,  and  for  a  second  or  two  actually  stared  at  without 
answering  her. 

' '  Can't  you  tell  me  ?  Are  they  correct  in  saying  he  has 
been  caught  ?"  cried  she,  impatiently. 

"Very  far  from  it.  There  are  the  police  returns  up  to 
last  night  from  Meath,  Kildare,  and  Dublin;  and  though 
he  was  seen  at  Naas,  passed  some  hours  in  Dublin,  and 
actually  attended  a  night  meeting  at  Kells,  all  trace  of  him 
has  been  since  lost,  and  he  has  completely  baffled  us. 
By  the  Viceroy's  orders,  I  am  now  doubling  the  reward 
for  his  apprehension,  and  am  prepared  to  offer  a  free 
pardon  to  any  who  shall  give  information  about  him,  who 
may  not  actually  have  comitted  a  felony." 

"Is  he  so  very  dangerous,  then?  " 

"  Every  man  who  is  so  daring  is  dangerous  here.  The 
people  have  a  sort  of  idolatry  for  reckless  courage.  It  is  not 
only  that  he  has  ventured  to  come  back  to  the  country  where 
his  life  is  sacrificed  to  the  law,  but  he  declares  openly  he  is 
ready  to  offer  himself  as  a  representative  for  an  Irish  county, 
and  to  test  in  his  own  person  whether  the  English  will  have 
the  temerity  to  touch  the  man,  —  the  choice  of  the  Irish 
people." 

"He  is  bold,"  said  she,  resolutely. 


348  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  And  I  trust  he  will  pay  for  his  boldness  !  Our  law  offi- 
cers are  prepared  to  treat  him  as  a  felon,  irrespective  of  all 
claim  to  his  character  as  a  Member  of  Parliament." 

"  The  danger  will  not  deter  him." 

"You  think  so?" 

*'  I  know  it,'^  was  the  calm  reply. 

*'  Indeed,"  said  he,  bending  a  steady  look  at  her.  "  What 
opportunities,  might  I  ask,  have  you  had  to  form  this  same 
opinion  ?  " 

''  Are  not  the  public  papers  full  of  him?  Have  we  not  an 
almost  daily  record  of  his  exploits?  Do  not  your  own  re- 
wards for  his  capture  impart  an  almost  fabulous  value  to  his 
life?" 

"His  portrait,  too,  may  lend  some  interest  to  his  story," 
said  he,  with  a  half-sneering  smile.  "  They  say  this  is  very 
like  him."     And  he  handed  a  photograph  as  he  spoke. 

"This  was  done  in  New  York,"  said  she,  turning  to  the 
back  of  the  card,  the  better  to  hide  an  emotion  she  could 
not  entirely  repress. 

"Yes,  done  by  a  brother  Fenian,  long  since  in  our  pay." 

"  How  base  all  that  sounds  !  how  I  detest  such  treachery  !  " 

"How  deal  with  treason  without  it?  Is  it  like  him?" 
asked  he,  artlessly. 

"  How  should  I  know?  "  said  she,  in  a  slightly  hurried  tone. 
"  It  is  not  like  the  portrait  in  the  '  Illustrated  News.'  " 

"  I  wonder  which  is  the  more  like,"  added  he,  thoughtfully, 
"  and  I  fervently  hope  we  shall  soon  know.  There  is  not  a 
man  he  confides  in  who  has  not  engaged  to  betray  him." 

"I  trust  you  feel  proud  of  your  achievement." 

"  No,  not  proud,  but  very  anxious  for  its  success.  The 
perils  of  this  country  are  too  great  for  mere  sensibilities. 
He  who  would  extirpate  a  terrible  disease  must  not  fear  the 
knife." 

"  Not  if  he  even  kill  the  patient?  "  asked  she. 

"That  might  happen,  and  would  be  to  be  deplored,"  said 
he,  in  the  same  unmoved  tone.  "But  might  I  ask,  whence 
has  come  all  this  interest  for  this  cause,  and  how  have  you 
learned  so  much  sympathy  with  these  people  ?  " 

"  I  read  the  newspapers,"  said  she,  dryly. 

"  You  must  read  those  of  only  one  color,  then,"  said  he, 


HOW  MEN  IN  OFFICE   MAKE   LOVE.  349 

slyly  ;  ''or  perhaps  it  is  the  tone  of  comment  you  hear  about 
you.  Are  your  sentiments  such  as  you  daily  listen  to  from 
Lord  Kilgobbin  and  his  family  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  they  are.  I  suspect  I'm  more  of  a 
rebel  than  he  is ;  but  I  '11  ask  him  if  you  wish  it." 

"  On  no  account,  I  entreat  you.  It  would  compromise  me 
seriously  to  hear  such  a  discussion  even  in  jest.  Remember 
who  I  am,  mademoiselle,  and  the  office  I  hold." 

"  Your  great  frankness,  Mr.  Walpole,  makes  me  some- 
times forget  both,"  said  she,  with  well-acted  humility. 

"  I  wish  it  would  do  something  more,"  said  he,  eagerly; 
"  I  wish  it  would  inspire  a  little  emulation,  and  make  you 
deal  as  openly  with  me  as  I  long  to  do  with  you" 

"  It  might  embarrass  you  very  much,  perhaps." 

"As  how?"  asked  he,  with  a  touch  of  tenderness  in  his 
voice. 

For  a  second  or  two  she  made  no  answer,  and  then,  falter- 
ing at  each  word,  she  said,  "  What  if  some  rebel  leader,  — 
this  man  Donogan,  for  instance,  —  drawn  towards  you  by 
some  secret  magic  of  trustfulness,  —  moved  by,  I  know 
not  what  need  of  your  sympathy,  —  for  there  is  such  a 
craving  void  now  a^nd  then  felt  in  the  heart,  —  should  tell 
you  some  secret  thought  of  his  nature,  —  something  that  he 
could  utter  alone  to  himself,  —  would  you  bring  yourself  to 
use  it  against  him  ?  Could  you  turn  round  and  say,  —  '  I 
have  your  inmost  soul  in  my  keeping.  You  are  mine  now, 
—  mine  —  mine  '  ?  " 

"  Do  I  understand  you  aright?  "  said  he,  earnestly.  "  Is  it 
just  possible,  even  possible,  that  you  have  that  to  confide  to 
me  which  would  show  that  you  regard  me  as  a  dear  friend  ?  " 

"Oh!  Mr.  Walpole,"  burst  she  out,  passionately,  "do 
not  by  the  greater  power  of  your  intellect  seek  the  mastery 
over  mine.  Let  the  loneliness  and  isolation  of  my  life  here 
rather  appeal  to  you  to  pity  than  suggest  the  thought  of  in- 
fluencing and  dominating  me." 

"  Would  that  I  might!  What  would  I  not  give  or  do  to 
have  that  power  that  you  speak  of !  " 

"  Is  this  true?  "  said  she. 

"It  is." 

*'  Will  you  swear  it? " 


350  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"Most  solemnly." 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  and  a  slight  tremor  shook  her 
mouth;  but  whether  the  motion  expressed  a  sentiment  of 
acute  pain  or  a  movement  of  repressed  sarcasm,  it  was  very 
difficult  to  determine. 

"What  is  it,  then,  that  you  would  swear?"  asked  she, 
calmly  and  even  coldly. 

"  Swear  that  I  have  no  hope  so  high,  no  ambition  so  great, 
as  to  win  your  heart." 

"Indeed!  And  that  other  heart  that  you  have  won, — 
what  is  to  become  of  it?  " 

"  Its  owner  has  recalled  it.  In  fact,  it  was  never  in  my 
keeping  but  as  a  loan." 

"  How  strange  !  At  least,  how  strange  to  me  this  sounds. 
I,  in  my  ignorance,  thought  that  people  pledged  their  very 
lives  in  these  bargains." 

"  So  it  ought  to  be,  and  so  it  would  be,  if  this  world  were 
not  a  web  of  petty  interests  and  mean  ambitions ;  and  these, 
I  grieve  to  say,  will  find  their  way  into  hearts  that  should  be 
the  home  of  very  different  sentiments.  It  was  of  this  order 
was  that  compact  with  my  cousin,  —  for  I  will  speak  openly 
to  you,  knowing  it  is  her  to  whom  you  allude.  We  were  to 
have  been  married.  It  was  an  old  engagement.  Our  friends 
—  that  is,  I  believe,  the  way  to  call  them  —  liked  it.  They 
thought  it  a  good  thing  for  each  of  us.  Indeed,  making  the 
dependants  of  a  good  family  intermarry  is  an  economy  of 
patronage,  —  the  same  plank  rescues  two  from  drowning.  I 
believe  —  that  is,  I  fear  —  we  accepted  all  this  in  the  same 
spirit.  We  were  to  love  each  other  as  much  as  we  could, 
and  our  relations  were  to  do  their  best  for  us." 

"  And  now  it  is  all  over?  " 

"  All  —  and  forever." 

"  How  came  this  about?  " 

"  At  first  by  a  jealousy  about  you." 

"  A  jealousy  about  me  !  You  surely  never  dared  —  "  and 
here  her  voice  trembled  with  real  passion,  while  her  eyes 
flashed  angrily. 

"No,  no.  I  am  guiltless  in  the  matter.  It  was  that  cur 
Atlee  made  the  mischief.  In  a  moment  of  weak  trustfulness 
I  sent  him  over  to  Wales  to  assist  my  uncle  in  his  corre- 


HOW  MEN  IN  OFFICE   MAKE  LOVE.  351 

spondence.  He,  of  course,  got  to  know  Lady  Maude  Bick- 
erstaffe ;  by  what  arts  he  ingratiated  himself  into  her  confi- 
dence I  cannot  say.  Indeed,  I  had  trusted  that  the  fellow's 
vulgarity  would  form  an  impassable  barrier  between  them, 
and  prevent  all  intimacy;  but,  apparently,  I  was  wrong. 
He  seems  to  have  been  the  companion  of  her  rides  and 
drives,  and,  under  the  pretext  of  doing  some  commissions 
for  her  in  the  bazaars  of  Constantinople,  he  got  to  corre- 
spond with  her.  So  artful  a  fellow  would  well  know  what 
to  make  of  such  a  privilege." 

":A.nd  is  he  your  successor  now?"  asked  she,  with  a  look 
of  almost  undisguised  insolence. 

"Scarcely  that,"  said  he,  with  a  supercilious  smile.  "I 
think,  if  you  had  ever  seen  my  cousin,  you  would  scarcely 
have  asked  the  question." 

"But  I  have  seen  her.  I  saw  her  at  the  Odescalchi  Palace 
at  Rome.  I  remember  the  stare  she  was  pleased  to  bestow 
on  me  as  she  swept  past  me.  I  remember  more,  her  words 
as  she  asked,  '  Is  this  your  Titian  girl  I  have  heard  so 
much  of?'  " 

"And  may  hear  more  of,"  muttered  he,  almost  uncon- 
sciously. 

"Yes,  even  that,  too;  but  not,  perhaps,  in  the  sense  you 
mean."  Then,  as  if  correcting  herself,  she  went  on,  "It 
was  a  bold  ambition  of  Mr.  Atlee.  I  must  say  I  like  the 
very  daring  of  it." 

"  jye  never  dared  it;  take  my  word  for  it." 

An  insolent  laugh  was  her  first  reply.  "How  little  you 
men  know  of  each  other,  and  how  less  than  little  you  know 
of  us!  You  sneer  at  the  people  who  are  moved  by  sudden 
impulse,  but  you  forget  it  is  the  squall  upsets  the  boat." 

"I  believe  I  can  follow  what  you  mean.  You  would 
imply  that  my  cousin's  breach  with  me  might  have  impelled 
h^  to  listen  to  Atlee  ?  " 

"Not  so  much  that,  as  by  establishing  himself  as  her 
confidant  he  got  the  key  of  her  heart,  and  let  himself  in  as 
he  pleased." 

"I  suspect  he  found  little  to  interest  him  there." 

"The  insufferable  insolence  of  that  speech!  Can  you  men 
never  be  brought  to  see  that  we  are  not  all  alike  to  each  of 


352  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

you;  that  our  natures  have  their  separate  watchwords,  and 
that  the  soul  which  would  vibrate  with  tenderness  to  this, 
is  to  that  a  dead  and  senseless  thing,  with  no  trace  nor 
touch  of  feeling  about  it?  " 

''I  only  believe  this  in  part." 

"Believe  it  wholly,  then,  or  own  that  you  know  nothing 
of  love ;  no  more  than  do  those  countless  thousands  who  go 
through  life  and  never  taste  its  real  ecstasy,  nor  its  real 
sorrow;  who  accept  convenience,  or  caprice,  or  flattered 
vanity  as  its  counterfeit,  and  live  out  the  delusion  in  lives 
of  discontent.  You  have  done  wrong  to  break  with  your 
cousin.     It  is  clear  to  me  you  suited  each  other." 

•'This  is  sarcasm." 

"If  it  is,  I  am  sorry  for  it.  I  meant  it  for  sincerity.  In 
your  career,  ambition  is  everything.  The  woman  that  could 
aid  you  on  your  road  would  be  tho  real  helpmate.  She  who 
would  simply  cross  your  piith  by  her  sympathies,  or  her 
affections,  would  be  a  mere  embarrassment.  Take  the  very 
case  before  us.  Would  not  Lady  Maude  point  out  to  you 
how,  by  the  capture  of  this  rebel,  you  might  so  aid  your 
friends  as  to  establish  a  claim  for  recompense?  Would  she 
not  impress  you  with  the  necessity  of  showing  how  your 
activity  redounded  to  the  credit  of  your  party?  She  would 
neither  interpose  with  ill-timed  appeals  to  your  pity  or  a 
misplaced  sympathy.  She  would  help  the  politician,  while 
another  might  hamper  the  man." 

"All  that  might  be  true  if  the  game  of  political  life  were 
played,  as  it  seems  to  be,  on  the  surface,  and  my  cousin 
was  exactly  the  sort  of  woman  to  use  ordinary  faculties  with 
ability  and  acuteness;  but  there  are  scores  of  things  in 
which  her  interference  would  have  beeh  hurtful,  and  her 
secrecy  dubious.  I  will  give  you  an  instance,  and  it  will 
serve  to  show  my  implicit  confidence  in  yourself.  Now 
with  respect  to  this  man,  Donogan,  there  is  nothing  we 
wish  less  than  to  take  him.  To  capture  means  to  try ;  to 
try  means  to  hang  him ;  and  how  much  better,  or  safer,  or 
stronger  are  we  when  it  is  done?  These  fellows,  right  or 
wrong,  represent  opinions  that  are  never  controverted  by 
the  scaffold;  and  every  man  who  dies  for  his  convictions 
leaves   a  thousand   disciples  who   never   believed    in   him 


HOW  MEN  IN  OFFICE   MAKE   LOVE.  353 

before.  It  is  only  because  he  braves  us  that  we  pursue  him, 
and  in  the  face  of  our  opponents  and  Parliament  we  cannot 
do  less.  So  that  while  we  are  offering  large  rewards  for  his 
apprehension  we  would  willingly  give  double  the  sum  to 
know  he  had  escaped.  Talk  of  the  supremacy  of  the  Law; 
the  more  you  assert  that  here,  the  more  ungovernable  is 
this  country  by  a  Party.  An  active  Attorney-General  is 
another  word  for  three  more  regiments  in  Ireland." 

''I  follow  you  with  some  difficulty;  but  I  see  that  you 
would  like  this  man  to  get  away,  and  how  is  that  to  be 
done?" 

''Easily  enough,  when  once  he  knows  that  it  will  be  safe 
for  him  to  go  north.  He  naturally  fears  the  Orangemen 
of  the  northern  counties.  They  will,  however,  do  nothing 
without  the  police,  and  the  police  have  got  their  orders 
throughout  Antrim  and  Derry.  Here,  —  on  this  strip  of 
paper,  —  here  are  the  secret  instructions :  '  To  George 
Dargan,  Chief  Constable,  Letterkenny  district.  Private  and 
confidential.  —  It  is,  for  many  reasons,  expedient  that  the 
convict  Donogan,  on  a  proper  understanding  that  he  will  not 
return  to  Ireland,  should  be  suffered  to  escape.  If  you  are, 
therefore,  in  a  position  to  extort  a  pledge  from  him  to  this 
extent,  and  it  should  be  explicit  and  beyond  all  cavil,  you 
will,  taking  due  care  not  to  compromise  your  authority  in 
your  office,  aid  him  to  leave  the  country,  even  to  the  extent 
of  moneyed  assistance.'  To  this  are  appended  directions 
how  he  is  to  proceed  to  carry  out  these  instructions ;  what 
he  may,  and  what  he  may  not  do,  with  whom  he  may  seek 
for  co-operation,  and  where  he  is  to  maintain  a  guarded  and 
careful  secrecy.  Now,  in  telling  you  all  this.  Mademoiselle 
Kostalergi,  I  have  given  you  the  strongest  assurance  in  my 
power  of  the  unlimited  trust  I  have  in  you.  I  see  how  the 
questions  that  agitate  this  country  interest  you.  I  read 
the  eagerness  with  which  you  watch  them,  but  I  want  you  to 
see  more.  I  want  you  to  see  that  the  men  who  purpose  to 
themselves  the  great  task  of  extricating  Ireland  from  her 
difficulties  must  be  politicians  in  the  highest  sense  of  the 
word,  and  that  you  should  see  in  us  statesmen  of  an  order 
that  can  weigh  human  passions  and  human  emotions ;  and 
see  that  hope  and  fear,  and  terror  and  gratitude,  sway  the 

23 


354  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

hearts  of  men  who,  to  less  observant  eyes,  seem  to  have  no 

place  in  their  natures  but  for  rebellion.     That  this  mode  of 

governing  Ireland  is  the  one  charm  to  the  Celtic  heart,  all 

the  Tory  rule  of  the  last  fifty  years,  with  its  hangings  and 

banishments  and  other  terrible  blunders,  will  soon  convince 

you.     The  priest  alone  has  felt  the  pulse  of  this  people,  and 

j    we  are  the  only  ministers  of  England  who  have  taken  the 

i    priest   into   our   confidence.     I   own  to  you  I  claim  some 

I    credit  for  myself  in  this  discovery.       It  was  in  long  reflect- 

1    ing  over  the  ills  of  Ireland  that  I  came  to  see  that  where 

1  the  malady  has  so  much  in  its  nature  that  is  sensational  and 

I  emotional,   so  must  the  remedy  be  sensational  too.     The 

^Tories  were  ever  bent  on  extirpating;  we  devote  ourselves 

to  '  healing  measures. '     Do  you  follow  me  ?  " 

"I  do,"  said  she,  thoughtfully. 

"Do  I  interest  you?"  asked  he,  more  tenderly. 

"Intensely,"  was  the  reply. 

"Oh,  if  I  could  but  think  that/  If  I  could  bring  myself 
to  believe  that  the  day  would  come,  not  only  to  secure  your 
interest,  but  your  aid  and  your  assistance  in  this  great  task ! 
I  have  long  sought  the  opportunity  to  tell  j^ou  that  we,  who 
hold  the  destinies  of  our  people  in  our  keeping,  are  not 
inferior  to  our  great  trust ;  that  we  are  not  mere  creatures 
of  a  state  department,  small  deities  of  the  Olympus  of  office, 
but  actual  statesmen  and  rulers.  Fortune  has  given  me 
the  wished-for  moment,  let  it  complete  my  happiness ;  let  it 
tell  me  that  you  see  in  this  noble  work  one  worthy  of  your 
genius  and  your  generosity,  and  that  you  would  accept  me 
as  a  fellow-laborer  in  the  cause." 

The  fervor  which  he  threw  into  the  utterance  of  these 
words  contrasted  strongly  and  strangely  with  the  words 
themselves;  so  unlike  the  declaration  of  a  lover's  passion. 

"I  do  —  not  —  know,"  said  she,  falteringly. 

"What  is  that  you  do  not  know?"  asked  he  with  tender 
eagerness. 

"I  do  not  know  if  I  understand  you  aright,  and  I  do  not 
know  what  answer  I  should  give  you." 

"Will  not  your  heart  tell  you?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  You  will  not  crush  me  with  the  thought  that  there  is  no 
pleading  for  me  there." 


HOW  MEN  IN  OFFICE  MAKE  LOVE.  355 

"If  you  had  desired  in  honesty  my  regard,  you  should  not 
have  prejudiced  me.  You  began  here  by  enlisting  my  sym- 
pathies in  your  task;  you  told  me  of  your  ambitions.  I 
like  these  ambitions." 

"Why  not  share  them?'*  cried  he,  passionately. 

"  You  seem  to  forget  what  you  ask.  A  woman  does  not 
give  her  heart  as  a  man  joins  a  party  or  an  administration. 
It  is  no  question  of  an  advantage  based  upon  a  compromise. 
There  is  no  sentiment  of  gratitude,  or  recompense,  or  reward 
in  the  gift.  She  simply  gives  that  which  is  no  longer  hers 
to  retain.  She  trusts  to  what  her  mind  will  not  stop  to 
question;  she  goes  where  she  cannot  help  but  follow." 

"How  immeasurably  greater  your  every  word  makes  the 
prize  of  your  love !  " 

"It  is  in  no  vanity  that  I  say,  I  know  it,"  said  she, 
calmly.     "Let  us  speak  no  more  on  this  now." 

"But  you  will  not  refuse  to  listen  to  me,  Nina?  " 

"I  will  read  you  if  you  write  to  me; "  and  with  a  wave  of 
good-bye  she  slowly  left  the  room. 

"She  is  my  master,  even  at  my  own  game,"  said  Walpole, 
as  he  sat  down  and  rested  his  head  between  his  hands. 
"  Still,  she  is  mistaken;  I  can  write  just  as  vaguely  as  I  can 
speak,  and  if  I  could  not,  it  would  have  cost  me  my  freedom 
this  many  a  day.  With  such  a  woman  one  might  venture 
high;  but  Heaven  help  him  when  he  ceased  to  climb  the 
mountain ! " 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 


A  CUP  OF    TEA. 


It  was  so  rare  an  event  of  late  for  Nina  to  seek  her  cousin 
in  her  own  room  that  Kate  was  somewhat  surprised  to  see 
Nina  enter  with  all  her  old  ease  of  manner,  and,  flinging 
away  her  hat  carelessly,  say,  "Let  me  have  a  cup  of  tea, 
dearest,  for  I  want  to  have  a  clear  head  and  a  calm  mind  for 
at  least  the  next  half- hour." 

"It  is  almost  time  to  dress  for  dinner,  especially  for  you, 
Nina,  who  make  a  careful  toilette." 

"Perhaps  I  shall  make  less  to-day;  perhaps  not  go  down 
to  dinner  at  all.  Do  you  know,  child,  I  have  every  reason 
for  agitation,  and  maiden  bashfulness,  besides?  Do  you 
know  I  have  had  a  proposal  —  a  proposal  in  all  form  —  from 
—  but  you  shall  guess  whom." 

"Mr.  O'Shea,  of  course." 

"No,  not  Mr.  O'Shea,  though  I  am  almost  prepared  for 
such  a  step  on  his  part;  nor  from  your  brother  Dick,  who 
has  been  falling  in  and  out  of  love  with  me  for  the  last 
three  months  or  more.  My  present  conquest  is  the  supremely 
arrogant,  but  now  condescending,  Mr.  Walpole,  who,  for 
reasons  of  state  and  exigencies  of  party,  has  been  led  to 
believe  that  a  pretty  wife,  with  a  certain  amount  of  natural 
astuteness,  might  advance  his  interests,  and  tend  to  his 
promotion  in  public  life;  and  with  his  old  instincts  as  a 
gambler,  he  is  actually  ready  to  risk  his  fortunes  on  a  single 
card,  and  I,  the  portionless  Greek  girl,  with  about  the 
same  advantages  of  family  as  of  fortune,  —  I  am  to  be  that 
queen  of  trumps  on  which  he  stands  to  win.  And  now,  dar- 
ling, the  cup  of  tea,  the  cup  of  tea,  if  you  want  to  hear 
more." 


A  CUP  OF  TEA.  357 

While  Kate  was  busy  arranging  the  cups  of  a  little  tea- 
service  that  did  duty  in  her  dressing-room,  Nina  walked 
impatiently  to  and  fro,  talking  with  rapidity  all  the  time. 

''The  man  is  a  greater  fool  than  I  thought  him,  and  mis- 
takes his  native  weakness  of  mind  for  originality.  If  you 
had  heard  the  imbecile  nonsense  he  talked  to  me  for 
political  shrewdness;  and  when  he  had  shown  me  what  a 
very  poor  creature  he  was,  he  made  me  the  offer  of  himself ! 
This  was  so  far  honest  and  above-board.  It  was  saying 
in  so  many  words,  '  You  see,  I  am  a  bankrupt. '  Now,  I 
don't  like  bankrupts,  either  of  mind  or  money.  Could  he 
not  have  seen  that  he  who  seeks  my  favor  must  sue  in 
another  fashion?" 

"  And  so  you  refused  him  ?  "  said  Kate,  as  she  poured  out 
her  tea. 

"Far  from  it;  I  rather  listened  to  his  suit.  I  was  so  far 
curious  to  hear  what  he  could  plead  in  his  behalf  that  I  bade 
him  write  it.  Yes,  dearest ;  it  was  a  maxim  of  that  very 
acute  man  my  papa,  that,  when  a  person  makes  you  any 
dubious  proposition  in  words,  you  oblige  him  to  commit  it 
to  writing.  Not  necessaril}^  to  be  used  against  him  after- 
wards, but  for  this  reason,  —  and  I  can  almost  quote  my 
papa's  phrase  on  the  occasion, — in  the  homage  of  his 
self-love  a  man  will  rarely  write  himself  such  a  knave  as'  he 
will  dare  to  own  when  he  is  talking,  and  in  that  act  of  weak- 
ness is  the  gain  of  the  other  party  to  the  compact." 

"I  don't  think  I  understand  jou." 

''I  'm  sure  you  do  not;  and  you  have  put  no  sugar  in  my 
tea,  which  is  worse.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  your  clock 
is  right,  and  that  it  is  already  nigh  seven?  Oh,  dear!  and 
I,  who  have  not  told  you  one  half  of  my  news,  I  must  go 
and  dress.  I  have  a  certain  green  silk  with  white  roses 
which  I  mean  to  wear;  and  with  my  hair  in  that  crimson 
Neapolitan  net,  it  is  a  toilette  a  la  minute." 

"You  know  how  it  becomes  you,"  said  Kate,  half  slyly. 

"Of  course  I  do,  or  in  this  critical  moment  of  my  life  I 
should  not  risk  it.  It  will  have  its  own  suggestive  meaning, 
too.  It  will  recall  ce  cher  Cecil  to  days  at  Baia,  or  wan- 
dering along  the  coast  at  Portici.  I  have  known  a  frag- 
ment of  lace,  a  flower,  a  few  bars  of  a  song,  do  more  to  link 


358  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

the  broken  chain  of  memory  than  scores  of  more  labored 
recollections;  and  then  these  little  paths  that  lead  you  back 
are  so  simple,  so  free  from  all  premeditation.  Don't  you 
think  so,  dear?" 

"I  do  not  know,  and  if  it  were  not  rude,  I  'd  say  I  do  not 
care." 

"If  my  cup  of  tea  were  not  so  good,  I  should  be  offended 
and  leave  the  room  after  such  a  speech.  But  you  do  not 
know,  you  could  not  guess,  the  interesting  things  that  I 
could  tell  you,"  cried  she,  with  an  almost  breathless  rapidity. 
"Just  imagine  that  deep  statesman,  that  profound  plotter, 
telling  me  that  they  actually  did  not  wish  to  capture  Dono- 
gan ;  that  they  would  rather  that  he  should  escape !  " 

"He  told  you  this?" 

"He  did  more;  he  showed  me  the  secret  instructions  to 
his  police  creatures,  —  I  forget  how  they  are  called,  —  show- 
ing what  they  might  do  to  connive  at  his  escape,  and  how 
they  should  —  if  they  could  —  induce  him  to  give  some 
written  pledge  to  leave  Ireland  forever." 

"Oh,  this  is  impossible!"  cried  Kate. 

"I  could  prove  it  to  you  if  I  had  not  just  sent  off  the  veri- 
table bit  of  writing  by  post.  Yes,  stare  and  look  horrified 
if  you  like ;  it  is  all  true.  I  stole  the  piece  of  paper  with 
the  secret  directions,  and  sent  it  straight  to  Donogan,  under 
cover  to  Archibald  Casey,  Esq.,  9  Lower  Gardner  Street, 
Dublin." 

"How  could  you  have  done  such  a  thing?  " 

"Say,  how  could  I  have  done  otherwise.  Donogan  now 
knows  whether  it  will  become  him  to  sign  this  pact  with  the 
enemy.  If  he  deem  his  life  worth  having  at  the  price,  it 
is  well  that  I  should  know  it." 

"It  is,  then,  of  yourself  you  were  thinking  all  the  while." 

"Of  myself  and  of  him.  I  do  not  say  I  love  this  man; 
but  I  do  say  his  conduct  now  shall  decide  if  he  be  worth 
loving.  There  's  the  bell  for  dinner.  You  shall  hear  all  I 
have  to  say  this  evening.  What  an  interest  it  gives  to  life, 
even  this  much  of  plot  and  peril !  Short  of  being  with  the 
rebel  himself,  Kate,  and  sharing  his  dangers,  I  know  of 
nothing  could  have  given  me  such  delight." 

She  turned  back  as  she  left  the  door,  and  said,  "Make 


A  CUP  OF  TEA.  359 

Mr.  Walpole  take  you  down  to  dinner  to-day ;  I  shall  take 
Mr.  O' Shea's  arm,  or  your  brother's." 

The  address  of  Archibald  Casey,  which  Nina  had  used  on 
this  occasion,  was  that  of  a  well-known  solicitor  in  Dublin, 
whose  Conservative  opinions  placed  him  above  all  suspicion 
or  distrust.  One  of  his  clients,  however,  —  a  certain  Mr. 
Maher,  —  had  been  permitted  to  have  letters  occasionally 
addressed  to  him  to  Casey's  care;  and  Maher,  being  an 
old  college  friend  of  Donogan's,  afforded  him  this  mode  of 
receiving  letters  in  times  of  unusual  urgency  or  danger. 
Maher  shared  very  slightly  in  Donogan's  opinions.  He 
thought  the  men  of  the  National  party  not  only  dangerous 
in  themselves,  but  that  they  afforded  a  reason  for  many  of 
the  repressive  laws  which  Englishmen  passed  with  reference 
to  Ireland.  A  friendship  of  early  life,  when  both  these 
young  men  were  college  students,  had  overcome  such  scru- 
ples, and  Donogan  had  been  permitted  to  have  many  letters 
marked  simply  with  a  D.,  which  were  sent  under  cover  to 
Maher.  This  facility  had,  however,  been  granted  so  far 
back  as  '47,  and  had  not  been  renewed  in  the  interval, 
during  which  time  the  Archibald  Casey  of  that  period  had 
died,  and  been  succeeded  by  a  son  with  the  same  name  as 
his  father. 

When  Nina,  on  looking  over  Donogan's  note-book,  came 
upon  this  address,  she  saw,  also,  some  almost  illegible 
words,  which  implied  that  it  was  only  to  be  employed  as  the 
last  resort,  or  had  been  so  used,  —  a  phrase  she  could  not 
exactly  determine  what  it  meant.  The  present  occasion,  so 
emergent  in  every  way,  appeared  to  warrant  both  haste  and 
security;  and  so,  under  cover  to  S.  Maher,  she  wrote  to 
Donogan  in  these  words :  — 

"I  send  you  the  words  in  the  original  handwriting,  of  the  instruc- 
tions with  regard  to  you.  You  will  do  what  your  honor  and  your 
conscience  dictate.  Do  not  write  to  me;  the  public  papers  will 
inform  me  what  your  decision  has  been,  and  I  shall  be  satisfied, 
however  it  incline.     I  rely  upon  you  to  burn  the  enclosure." 

A  suit-at-law,  in  which  Casey  acted  as  Maher's  attorney 
at  this  period,  required  that  the  letters  addressed  to  his 
house  for  Maher  should  be  opened  and  read;  and  though  the 


360  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

letter  D..  on  the  outside  might  have  suggested  a  caution, 
Casey  either  overlooked  or  misunderstood  it,  and  broke  the 
seal.  Not  knowing  what  to  think  of  this  document,  which 
was  without  signature,  and  had  no  clew  to  the  writer  except 
the  post-mark  of  Kilgobbin,  Casey  hastened  to  lay  the  letter, 
as  it  stood,  before  the  barrister  who  conducted  Maher's 
cause,  and  to  ask  his  advice.  The  Right  Hon.  Paul  Harti- 
gan  was  an  ex- Attorney-General  of  the  Tory  party,  —  a 
zealous,  active,  but  somewhat  rash  member  of  his  party; 
still  in  the  House,  a  Member  for  Mallow,  and  far  more 
eager  for  the  return  of  his  friends  to  power  than  the  great 
man  who  dictated  the  tactics  of  the  Opposition,  and  who 
with  more  of  responsibility  could  calculate  the  chances  of 
success. 

Paul  Hartigan's  estimate  of  the  Whigs  was  such  that  it 
would  have  in  no  wise  astonished  him  to  discover  that  Mr. 
Gladstone  was  in  close  correspondence  with  O'Donovan 
Rossa,  or  that  Chichester  Fortescue  had  been  sworn  in  as  a 
Head-Centre.  That  the  whole  Cabinet  were  secretly  Papists, 
and  held  weekly  confession  at  the  feet  of  Dr.  Manning,  he 
was  prepared  to  prove.  He  did  not  vouch  for  Mr.  Lowe; 
but  he  could  produce  the  form  of  scapular  worn  by  Mr. 
Gladstone,  and  had  a  fac-simile  of  the  scourge  by  which  Mr. 
Cardwell  diurnally  chastened  his  natural  instincts. 

If,  then,  he  expressed  but  small  astonishment  at  this 
"traffic  of  the  Government  with  rebellion,"  for  so  he  called 
it,  he  lost  no  time  in  endeavoring  to  trace  the  writer  of  the 
letter,  and  ascertaining,  so  far  as  he  might,  the  authenticity 
of  the  enclosure. 

"It 's  all  true,  Casey,"  said  he,  a  few  days  after  his 
receipt  of  the  papers.  "The  instructions  are  written  by 
Cecil  Walpole,  the  private  secretary  of  Lord  Danesbury. 
I  have  obtained  several  specimens  of  his  writing.  There  is 
no  attempt  at  disguise  or  concealment  in  this.  I  have 
learned,  too,  that  the  police-constable  Dargan  is  one  of 
their  most  trusted  agents ;  and  the  only  thing  now  to  find 
out  is,  who  is  the  writer  of  the  letter ;  for,  up  to  this,  all 
we  know  is,  the  hand  is  a  woman's." 

Now  it  chanced  that  when  Mr.  Hartigan  —  who  had  taken 
great  pains  and  bestowed  much  time  to  learn  the  story  of  the 


A  CUP  OF  TEA.  361 

night  attack  on  Kilgobbin,  and  wished  to  make  the  presence 
of  Mr.  Walpole  on  the  scene  the  ground  of  a  question  in 
Parliament  —  had  consulted  the  leader  of  the  Opposition  on 
the  subject,  he  had  met  not  only  a  distinct  refusal  of  aid, 
but  something  very  like  a  reproof  for  his  ill-advised  zeal. 
The  Honorable  Paul,  not  for  the  first  time  disposed  to  dis- 
trust the  political  loyalty  that  differed  with  his  own  ideas, 
now  declared  openly  that  he  would  not  confide  this  great 
disclosure  to  the  lukewarm  advocacy  of  Mr.  Disraeli;  he 
would  himself  lay  it  before  the  House,  and  stand  or  fall  by 
the  result. 

If  the  men  who  "  stand  or  fall  "  by  any  measure  were 
counted,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  they  usually  would  be  found 
not  only  in  the  category  of  the  latter,  but  that  they  very 
rarely  rise  again,  so  very  few  are  the  matters  which  can  be 
determined  without  some  compromise,  and  so  rare  are  the 
political  questions  which  comprehend  a  distinct  principle. 

What  warmed  the  Hartigan  ardor,  and,  indeed,  chafed  it 
to  a  white  heat  on  this  occasion,  was  to  see  by  the  public 
papers  that  Daniel  Donogan  had  been  fixed  on  by  the  men 
of  King's  County  as  the  popular  candidate,  and  a  public 
meeting  held  at  Kilbeggan  to  declare  that  the  man  who 
should  oppose  him  at  the  hustings  should  be  pronounced  the 
enemy  of  Ireland.  To  show  that  while  this  man  was  adver- 
tised in  the  "Hue  and  Cry,"  with  an  immense  reward  for 
his  apprehension,  he  was  in  secret  protected  by  the  Govern- 
ment, who  actually  condescended  to  treat  with  him ;  what  an 
occasion  would  this  afford  for  an  attack  that  would  revive 
the  memories  of  Grattan's  scorn  and  Curran's  sarcasm,  and 
declare  to  the  senate  of  England  that  the  men  who  led  them 
were  unworthy  guardians  of  the  national  honor! 


CHAPTER   L. 


CROSS    PURPOSES. 


Whether  Walpole  found  some  peculiar  difficulty  in  commit- 
ting his  intentions  to  writing,  or  whether  the  press  of  busi- 
ness which  usually  occupied  his  mornings  served  as  an 
excuse,  or  whether  he  was  satisfied  with  the  progress  of  his 
suit  by  his  personal  assiduities,  is  not  easy  to  say ;  but  his 
attentions  to  Mademoiselle  Kostalergi  had  now  assumed 
the  form  which  prudent  mothers  are  wont  to  call  "serious," 
and  had  already  passed  into  that  stage  where  small  jeal- 
ousies begin,  and  little  episodes  of  anger  and  discontent  are 
admitted  as  symptoms  of  the  complaint. 

In  fact,  he  had  got  to  think  himself  privileged  to  remon- 
strate against  this,  and  to  dictate  that,  —  a  state,  be  it 
observed,  which,  whatever  its  effect  upon  the  "  lady  of  his 
love,"  makes  a  man  particularly  odious  to  the  people  around 
him;  and  he  is  singularly  fortunate  if  it  make  him  not 
ridiculous  also. 

The  docile  or  submissive  was  not  the  remarkable  element 
in  Nina's  nature.  She  usually  resisted  advice,  and  resented 
anything  like  dictation  from  any  quarter.  Indeed,  they  who 
knew  her  best  saw  that,  however  open  to  casual  influences,  a 
direct  show  of  guidance  was  sure  to  call  up  all  her  spirit  of 
opposition.  It  was,  then,  a  matter  of  actual  astonishment 
to  all  to  perceive  not  only  how  quietly  and  patiently  she 
accepted  Walpole' s  comments  and  suggestions,  but  how 
implicitly  she  seemed  to  obey  them. 

All  the  little  harmless  freedoms  of  manner  with  Dick 
Kearney  and  O'Shea  were  now  completely  given  up.  No 
more  was  there  between  them  that  interchange  of  light 
"persiflage"  which,  presupposing  some  subject  of  common 
interest,  is  in  itself  a  ground  of  intimacy. 


CROSS  PURPOSES.  363 

She  ceased  to  sing  the  songs  that  were  their  favorites. 
Her  walks  in  the  garden  after  breakfast,  where  her  ready 
wit  and  genial  pleasantry  used  to  bring  her  a  perfect  troop 
of  followers,  were  abandoned.  The  little  projects  of  daily 
pleasure,  hitherto  her  especial  province,  were  changed  for 
a  calm  subdued  demeanor  which,  though  devoid  of  all  de- 
pression, wore  the  impress  of  a  certain  thoughtfuluess  and 
seriousness. 

No  man  was  less  observant  than  old  Kearney;  and  yet 
even  he  saw  the  change  at  last,  and  asked  Kate  what  it 
might  mean.  "She  is  not  ill,  I  hope,"  said  he;  "or  is  our 
humdrum  life  too  wearisome  to  her?" 

"I  do  not  suspect  either,"  said  Kate,  slowly.  "I  rather 
believe  that  as  Mr.  Walpole  has  paid  her  certain  attentions, 
she  has  made  the  changes  in  her  manner  in  deference  to 
some  wishes  of  his." 

"He  wants  her  to  be  more  English,  perhaps,"  said  he, 
sarcastically. 

"Perhaps  so." 

"Well,  she  is  not  born  one  of  us,  but  she  is  like  us  all 
the  same;  and  I'll  be  sorely  grieved  if  she'll  give  up  her 
light-heartedness  and  her  pleasantry  to  win  that  cockney." 

"I  think  she  has  won  the  cockney  already,  sir." 

A  long  low  whistle  was  his  reply.  At  last  he  said,  "I 
suppose  it 's  a  very  grand  conquest,  and  what  the  world  calls 
*  an  elegant  match;'  but  may  I  never  see  Easter,  if  I 
would  n't  rather  she  'd  marry  a  fine  dashing  young  fellow 
over  six  feet  high,  like  O'Shea  there,  than  one  of  your  gold- 
chain-and-locket  young  gentlemen  who  smile  where  they 
ought  to  laugh,  and  pick  their  way  through  life  as  a  man 
crosses  a  stream  on  stepping-stones." 

"Maybe  she  does  not  like  Mr.  O'Shea,  sir." 

"And  do  you  think  she  likes  the  other 'man?  or  is  it  any- 
thing else  than  one  of  those  mercenary  attachments  that  you 
young  ladies  understand  better,  far  better,  than  the  most 
worldly-minded  father  or  mother  of  us  all  ?  " 

"Mr.  Walpole  has  not,  I  believe,  any  fortune,  sir.  There 
is  nothing  very  dazzling  in  his  position  nor  his  prospects." 

"No.  Not  amongst  his  own  set,  nor  with  his  own  people; 
he  is  small  enough  there,  I  grant  you ;  but  when  he  comes 


364  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

down  to  ours,  Kitty,  we  think  him  a  grandee  of  Spain ;  and 
if  he  was  married  into  the  family,  we  'd  get  off  all  his  noble 
relations  by  heart,  and  soon  start  talking  of  our  aunt.  Lady 
Sueh-a-one,  and  Lord  Somebody  else,  that  was  our  first 
cousin,  till  our  neighbors  would  nearly  die  out  of  pure 
spite.  Sitting  down  in  one's  poverty,  and  thinking  over 
one's  grand  relations,  is  for  all  the  world  like  Paddy  eating 
his  potatoes,  and  pointing  at  the  red-herring;  even  the  look 
of  what  he  dare  not  taste  flavors  his  meal." 

"At  least,  sir,  you  have  found  an  excuse  for  our 
conduct." 

"  Because  we  are  all  snobs,  Kitty ;  because  there  is  not  a 
bit  of  honesty  or  manliness  in  our  nature;  and  because  our 
women,  that  need  not  be  bargaining  or  borrowing,  — 
neither  pawnbrokers  nor  usurers,  —  are  just  as  vulgar- 
minded  as  ourselves;  and  now  that  we  have  given  twenty 
millions  to  get  rid  of  slavery,  like  to  show  how  they  can 
keep  it  up  in  the  old  country,  just  out  of  defiance." 

"If  you  disapprove  of  Mr.  Walpole,  sir,  I  believe  it  is 
full  time  you  should  say  so.'* 

"I  neither  approve  nor  disapprove  of  him.  I  don't  well 
know  whether  I  have  any  right  to  do  either,  —  I  mean  so  far 
as  to  influence  her  choice.  He  belongs  to  a  sort  of  men  I 
know  as  little  about  as  I  do  of  the  Choctaw  Indians.  They 
have  lives  and  notions  and  ways  all  unlike  ours.  The 
world  is  so  civil  to  them  that  it  prepares  everything  to  their 
taste.  If  they  want  to  shoot,  the  birds  are  cooped  up  in  a 
cover,  and  only  let  fly  when  they  're  ready.  When  they  fish, 
the  salmon  are  kept  prepared  to  be  caught;  and  if  they 
make  love,  the  young  lady  is  just  as  ready  to  rise  to  the 
fly,  and  as  willing  to  be  bagged  as  either.  Thank  God, 
my  darling,  with  all  our  barbarism,  we  have  not  come  to 
that  in  Ireland." 

"Here  comes  Mr.  Walpole  now,  sir;  and,  if  I  read  his 
face  aright,  he  has  something  of  importance  to  say  to 
you." 

Kate  had  barely  time  to  leave  the  room  as  Walpole  came 
forward  with  an  open  telegram  and  a  mass  of  papers  in  his 
hand. 

"May  I  have  a  few  moments  of  conversation  with  you?  " 


CROSS  PURPOSES.  365 

said  he ;  and  in  the  tone  of  his  words,  and  a  certain  gravity 
in  his  manner,  Kearney  thought  he  could  perceive  what  the 
communication  portended. 

"I  am  at  your  orders,"  said  Kearney,  and  he  placed  a 
chair  for  the  other. 

"  An  incident  has  befallen  my  life  here,  Mr.  Kearney, 
which,  I  grieve  to  say,  may  not  only  color  the  whole  of  my 
future  career,  but  not  impossibly  prove  the  barrier  to  my 
pursuit  of  public  life." 

Kearney  stared  at  him  as  he  finished  speaking,  and  the 
two  men  sat  fixedly  gazing  on  each  other. 

"  It  is,  I  hasten  to  own,  the  one  unpleasant,  the  one,  the 
only  one,  disastrous  event  of  a  visit  full  of  the  happiest 
memories  of  my  life.  Of  your  generous  and  graceful  hos- 
pitality, I  cannot  say  half  what  I  desire  — " 

"  Say  nothing  about  my  hospitality,"  said  Kearney, 
whose  irritation  as  to  what  the  other  called  a  disaster  left 
him  no  place  for  any  other  sentiment;  "but  just  tell  me 
why  you  count  this  a  misfortune." 

"  I  call  a  misfortune,  sir,  what  may  not  only  depose  me 
from  my  office  and  my  station,  but  withdraw  entirely  from 
me  the  favor  and  protection  of  my  uncle,  Lord  Danesbury." 

"Then  why  the  devil  do  you  do  it?"  cried  Kearney, 
angrily. 

"  Wh}^  do  I  do  what,  sir?  I  am  not  aware  of  any  action 
of  mine  you  should  question  with  such  energy." 

"I  mean,  if  it  only  tends  to  ruin  your  prospects  and 
disgust  your  family,  why  do  you  persist,  sir?  I  was  going 
to  say  more,  and  ask  with  what  face  you  presume  to  come 
and  tell  these  things  to  meV* 

"  I  am  really  unable  to  understand  you,  sir." 

"Mayhap,  we  are  both  of  us  in  the  same  predicament," 
cried  Kearney,  as  he  wiped  his  brow  in  proof  of  his  con- 
fusion. 

"  Had  you  accorded  me  a  very  little  patience,  I  might, 
perhaps,  have  explained  myself." 

Not  trusting  himself  with  a  word,  Kearney  nodded,  and 
the  other  went  on:  "The  post  this  morning  brought  me, 
among  other  things,  these  two  newspapers,  with  penmarks 
in  the  margin  to   direct   my  attention.     This  is  the  '  Lily 


366  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

of  Londonderry,'  a  wild  Orange  print;  this,  the  'Banner 
of  Ulster,'  a  journal  of  the  same  complexion.  Here  is 
what  the  '  Lily '  says :  '  Our  county  member,  Sir  Jonas 
Gettering,  is  now  in  a  position  to  call  the  attention  of  Par- 
liament to  a  document  which  will  distinctly  show  how  her 
Majesty's  Ministers  are  not  only  in  close  correspondence 
with  the  leaders  of  Fenianism,  but  that  Irish  rebellion 
receives  its  support  and  comfort  from  the  present  Cabinet. 
Grave  as  this  charge  is,  and  momentous  as  would  be  the 
consequences  of  such  an  allegation  if  unfounded,  we  repeat 
that  such  a  document  is  in  existence,  and  that  we  who  write 
these  lines  have  held  it  in  our  hands  and  have  perused  it.' 

"  The  '  Banner '  copies  the  paragraph,  and  adds,  '  We  give 
all  the  publicity  in  our  power  to  a  statement  which,  from 
our  personal  knowledge,  we  can  declare  to  be  true.  If  the 
disclosures  which  a  debate  on  this  subject  must  inevitably 
lead  to  will  not  convince  Englishmen  that  Ireland  is  now 
governed  by  a  party  whose  falsehood  and  subtlety  not  even 
Machiavelli  himself  could  justify,  we  are  free  to  declare 
we  are  ready  to  join  the  Nationalists  to-morrow,  and  to  cry 
out  for  a  Parliament  in  College  Green,  in  preference  to  a 
Holy  Inquisition  at  Westminster.' " 

"That  fellow  has  blood  in  him,"  cried  Kearney,  with 
-enthusiasm,   "and  I  go  a  long  way  with  him." 

"  That  may  be,  sir,  and  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said 
Walpole,  coldly ;  ' '  but  what  I  am  concerned  to  tell  you 
is,  that  the  document  or  memorandum  here  alluded  to  was 
among  my  papers,  and  abstracted  from  them  since  I  have 
been  here." 

"So  that  there  was  actually  such  a  paper?"  broke  in 
Kearney. 

' '  There  was  a  paper  which  the  malevolence  of  a  party 
journalist  could  convert  to  the  support  of  such  a  charge. 
What  concerns  me  more  immediately  is,  that  it  has  been 
stolen  from  my  despatch-box." 

"Are  you  certain  of  that?" 

"  I  believe  I  can  prove  it.  The  only  day  in  which  T  was 
busied  with  these  papers  I  carried  them  down  to  the  library, 
and  with  my  own  hands  I  brought  them  back  to  my  room 
and  placed  them  under  lock  and  key  at  once.     The   box 


CROSS  PURPOSES.  367 

bears  no  trace  of  having  been  broken,  so  that  the  only 
solution  is  a  key.  Perhaps  my  own  key  may  have  been 
used  to  open  it,  for  the  document  is  gone." 

"This  is  a  bad  business,"  said  Kearney,  sorrowfully. 

"It  is  ruin  to  me,"  cried  Walpole,  with  passion.  "Here 
is  a  despatch  from  Lord  Danesbury,  commanding  me 
immediately  to  go  over  to  him  in  Wales,  and  I  can  guess 
easily  what  has  occasioned   the  order." 

"I'll  send  for  a  force  of  Dublin  detectives.  I'll  write 
to  the  chief  of  the  police.  I  '11  not  rest  till  I  have  every  one 
in  the  house  examined  on  oath,"  cried  Kearney.  "  What 
was  it  like?     Was  it  a  despatch  —  was  it  in  an  envelope?  " 

"  It  was  a  mere  memorandum,  —  a  piece  of  post  paper, 
and  headed,  '  Draught  of  instruction  touching  D.  D.  For- 
ward to  chief  constable  of  police  at  Letterkenny.  October 
9th.' " 

"But  you  had  no  direct  correspondence  with  Donogan?" 

"  I  believe,  sir,  I  need  not  assure  you  I  had  not.  The 
malevolence  of  party  has  alone  the  merit  of  such  an  impu- 
tation. For  reasons  of  state,  we  desired  to  observe  a  certain 
course  towards  the  man,  and  Orange  malignity  is  pleased  to 
misrepresent  and  calumniate  us." 

"  And  can't  you  say  so  in  Parliament?  " 

"  So  we  will,  sir,  and  the  nation  will  believe  us.  Mean- 
while, see  the  mischief  that  the  miserable  slander  will  reflect 
upon  our  administration  here,  and  remember  that  the  people 
who  could  alone  contradict  the  story  are  those  very  Fenians 
who  will  benefit  by  its  being  believed." 

"  Do  your  suspicions  point  to  any  one  in  particular?  Do 
you  believe  that  Curtis  —  ?  " 

"  I  had  it  in  my  hand  the  day  after  he  left." 

"Was  any  one  aware  of  its  existence  here  but  yourself?" 

"None  —  wait,  I  am  wrong.  Your  niece  saw  it.  She 
was  in  the  library  one  day.  I  was  engaged  in  writing,  and 
as  we  grew  to  talk  over  the  country,  I  chanced  to  show  her 
the  despatch." 

"Let  us  ask  her  if  she  remembers  whether  any  servant 
was  about  at  the  time,  or  happened  to  enter  the  room." 

"I  can  myself  answer  that  question.  I  know  there  was 
not." 


368  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

''  Let  us  call  her  down  and  see  what  she  remembers/'  said 
Kearney. 

"I'd  rather  not,  sir.  A  mere  question  in  such  a  case 
would  be  offensive,  and  1  would  not  risk  the  chance.  What 
I  would  most  wish  is,  to  place  my  despatch-box,  with  the 
key,  in  your  keeping,  for  the  purposes  of  the  inquiry,  for  I 
must  start  in  half  an  hour.  I  have  sent  for  post-horses  to 
Moate,  and  ordered  a  special  train  to  town.  I  shall,  I  hope, 
catch  the  eight  o'clock  boat  for  Holyhead,  and  be  with  his 
Lordship  before  this  time  to-morrow.  If  I  do  not  see  the 
ladies,  for  I  believe  they  are  out  walking,  will  you  make  my 
excuses  and  my  adieux?  My  confusion  and  discomfiture  will, 
I  feel  sure,  plead  for  me.  It  would  not  be,  perhaps,  too 
much  to  ask  for  any  information  that  a  police  inquiry  might 
elicit ;  and  if  either  of  the  young  ladies  would  vouchsafe  me 
a  line  to  say  what,  if  anything,  has  been  discovered,  I  should 
feel  deeply  gratified." 

"  I  '11  look  to  that.     You  shall  be  informed." 

' '  There  was  another  question  that  I  much  desired  to  speak 
of,"  and  here  he  hesitated  and  faltered;  "  but  perhaps,  on 
every  score,  it  is  as  well  I  should  defer  it  till  my  return  to 
Ireland." 

"  You  know  best,  whatever  it  is,"  said  the  old  man,  drjdy. 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  lam  sure  of  it."  A  hurried  shake- 
hands  followed,  and  he  was  gone. 

It  is  but  right  to  add  that  a  glance  at  the  moment  through 
the  window  had  shown  him  the  wearer  of  a  muslin  dress 
turning  into  the  copse  outside  the  garden,  and  Walpole 
dashed  down  the  stairs  and  hurried  in  the  direction  he  saw 
Nina  take,  with  all  the  speed  he  could. 

"Get  my  luggage  on  the  carriage,  and  have  everything 
ready,"  said  he,  as  the  horses  were  drawn  up  at  the  door. 
"  I  shall  return  in  a  moment." 


CHAPTER   LI. 


AWAKENINGS. 


When  Walpole  hurried  into  the  beech  alley,  which  he  had 
seen  Nina  take,  and  followed  her  in  all  haste,  he  did  not  stop 
to  question  himself  why  he  did  so.  Indeed,  if  prudence 
were  to  be  consulted,  there  was  every  reason  in  the  world 
why  he  should  rather  have  left  his  leave-takings  to  the  care 
of  Mr.  Kearney  than  assume  the  charge  of  them  himself ; 
but  if  young  gentlemen  who  fall  in  love  were  only  to  be  logi- 
cal or  "consequent,"  the  tender  passion  would  soon  lose 
some  of  the  contingencies  which  give  it  much  of  its  charm, 
and  people  who  follow  such  occupations  as  mine  would  dis- 
cover that  they  had  lost  one  of  the  principal  employments  of 
their  lifetime. 

As  he  went  along,  however,  he  bethought  him  that  as  it 
was  to  say  good-bye  he  now  followed  her,  it  behooved  him  to 
blend  his  leave-taking  with  that  pledge  of  a  speedy  return, 
which,  like  the  eifects  of  light  in  landscape,  bring  out  the 
various  tints  in  the  richest  coloring,  and  mark  more  dis- 
tinctly all  that  is  in  shadow.  *'  I  shall  at  least  see,"  muttered 
he  to  himself,  ''  how  far  my  presence  here  serves  to  brighten 
her  daily  life,  and  what  amount  of  gloom  my  absence  will 
suggest."  Cecil  Walpole  was  one  of  a  class,  — and  I  hasten 
to  say  it  is  a  class,  —  who,  if  not  very  lavish  of  their  own 
affections,  or  accustomed  to  draw  largely  on  their  own  emo- 
tions, are  very  fond  of  being  loved  themselves,  and  not  only 
are  they  convinced  that  as  there  can  be  nothing  more  natural 
or  reasonable  than  to  love  them,  it  is  still  a  highly  com- 
mendable feature  in  the  person  who  carries  that  love  to  the 
extent  of  a  small  idolatry,  and  makes  it  the  business  of  a  life. 
To  worship  the  men  of  this  order  constitutes  in  their  eyes  a 
species  of  intellectual  superiority  for  which  they  are  grate- 

24 


370  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

ful,  and  this  same  gratitude  represents  to  themselves  all  of 
love  their  natures  are  capable  of  feeling. 

He  knew  thoroughly  that  Nina  was  not  alone  the  most 
beautiful  woman  he  had  ever  seen ;  that  the  fascinations  of 
her  manner,  and  her  grace  of  movement  and  gesture,  exer- 
cised a  sway  that  was  almost  magic;  that  in  quickness  to 
apprehend  and  readiness  to  reply,  she  scarcely  had  an  equal ; 
and  that  whether  she  smiled,  or  looked  pensive,  or  listened, 
or  spoke,  there  was  an  absorbing  charm  about  her  that  made 
one  forget  all  else  around  her,  and  unable  to  see  any  but 
her;  and  yet,  with  all  this  consciousness,  he  recognized  no 
trait  about  her  so  thoroughly  attractive  as  that  she  admired 
him. 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  This  same  sentiment  can 
be  at  times  something  very  different  from  a  mere  egotism,  — 
not  that  I  mean  to  say  it  was  such  in  the  present  case.  Cecil 
Walpole  fully  represented  the  order  he  belonged  to,  and  was 
a  most  well-looking,  well-dressed,  and  well-bred  young  gen- 
tleman, only  suggesting  the  reflection  that,  to  live  amongst 
such  a  class  pure  and  undiluted,  would  be  little  better  than  a 
life  passed  in  the  midst  of  French  communism. 

I  have  said  that,  after  his  fashion,  he  was  "  in  love  "  with 
her,  and  so,  after  his  fashion,  he  wanted  to  say  that  he  was 
going  away,  and  to  tell  her  not  to  be  utterly  disconsolate  till 
he  came  back  again.  ''  I  can  imagine,"  thought  he,  "  how 
I  made  her  life  here,  how,  in  developing  the  features  that 
attract  me,  I  made  her  a  very  different  creature  to  herself." 

It  was  not  at  all  unpleasant  to  him  to  think  that  the  people 
who  should  surround  her  were  so  unlike  himself.  "  The 
barbarians,"  as  he  courteously  called  them  to  himself,  "will 
be  very  hard  to  endure.  Nor  am  I  very  sorry  for  it,  only 
she  must  catch  nothing  of  their  traits  in  accommodating 
herself  to  their  habits.  On  that  I  must  strongly  insist. 
Whether  it  be  by  singing  their  silly  ballads,  —  that  four-note 
melody  they  call  '  Irish  music,'  —  or  through  mere  imitation, 
she  has  already  caught  a  slight  accent  of  the  country.  She 
must  get  rid  of  this.  She  will  have  to  divest  herself  of  all 
her  '  Kilgobbinries '  ere  I  present  her  to  my  friends  in  town." 
Apart  from  these  disparagements,  she  could,  as  he  expressed 
it,  "  hold  her  own,"  and  people  take  a  very  narrow  view  of 


AWAKENINGS.  371 

the  social  dealings  of  the  world,  who  fail  to  see  how  much 
occasion  a  woman  has  for  the  exercise  of  tact  and  temper 
and  discretion  and  ready-wittedness  and  generosity  in  all  the 
well-bred  intercourse  of  life.  Just  as  Walpole  had  arrived 
at  that  stage  of  reflection  to  recognize  that  she  was  exactly 
the  woman  to  suit  him  and  push  his  fortunes  with  the  world, 
he  reached  a  part  of  the  w^ood  where  a  little  space  had  been 
cleared,  and  a  few  rustic  seats  scattered  about  to  make  a 
halting-place.  The  sound  of  voices  caught  his  ear,  and  he 
stopped,  and  now,  looking  stealthily  through  the  brushwood, 
he  saw  Gorman  O'Shea  as  he  lay  in  a  lounging  attitude  on  a 
bench  and  smoked  his  cigar,  while  Nina  Kostalergi  was- 
busily  engaged  in  pinning  up  the  skirt  of  her  dress  in  a, 
festoon  fashion,  which,  to  Cecil's  ideas  at  least,  displayed 
more  of  a  marvellously  pretty  instep  and  ankle  than  he 
thought  strictly  warranted.  Puzzling  as  this  seemed,  the 
first  words  she  spoke  gave  the  explanation. 

"  Don't  flatter  yourself,  most  valiant  soldier,  that  you  are 
going  to  teach  me  the  '  Czardasz.'  I  learned  it  years  ago 
from  Tassilo  Esterhazy ;  but  I  asked  you  to  come  here  to 
set  me  right  about  that  'half-minuet  step  that  begins  it.  I 
believe  I  have  got  into  the  habit  of  doing  the  man's  part,  for 
I  used  to  be  Pauline  Esterhazy 's  partner  after  Tassilo  went 
away." 

"  You  had  a  precious  dancing-master  in  Tassilo,"  growled 
out  O'Shea.     "  The  greatest  scamp  in  the  Austrian  army." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  moralities  of  the  Austrian  army, 
but  the  Count  was  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  a  special  friend 
of  mine." 

''  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  was  the  gruff  rejoinder. 

"You  have  nothing  to  grieve  for,  sir.  You  have  no 
vested  interest  to  be  imperilled  by  anything  that  I  do." 

"Let  us  not  quarrel,  at  all  events,"  said  he,  as  he  arose 
with  some  alacrity  and  flung  away  his  cigar ;  and  Walpole 
turned  away,  as  little  pleased  with  what  he  had  heard,  as 
dissatisfied  with  himself  for  having  listened.  "  And  we  call 
these  things  accidents,"  muttered  he  ;  "  but  I  believe  fortune 
means  more  generously  by  us  when  she  crosses  our  path  in 
this  wise.  I  almost  wish  I  had  gone  a  step  further,  and 
stood   before   them.     At   least  it  would   have  finished   this 


372  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

episode,  and  without  a  word.  As  it  is,  a  mere  phrase  will 
do  it,  —  the  simple  question  as  to  what  progress  she  makes  in 
dancing  will  show  I  know  all.  But  do  I  know  all  ?  "  Thus 
speculating  and  ruminating,  he  went  his  way  till  he  reached 
the  carriage,  and  drove  off  at  speed,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  really  and  deeply  in  love ! 

He  made  his  journey  safely,  and  arrived  at  Holyhead  by 
daybreak.  He  had  meant  to  go  over  deliberately  all  that  he 
should  say  to  the  Viceroy,  when  questioned,  as  he  expected 
to  be,  on  the  condition  of  Ireland.  It  was  an  old  story,  and 
with  very  few  variations  to  enliven  it. 

How  was  it  that,  with  all  his  Irish  intelligence  well 
arranged  in  his  mind, — the  agrarian  crime,  the  ineffective 
police,  the  timid  juries,  the  insolence  of  the  popular  press, 
and  the  arrogant  demands  of  the  priesthood ;  hoW  was  it 
that,  ready  to  state  all  these  obstacles  to  right  government, 
and  prepared  to  show  that  it  was  only  by  "  out-jockeying" 
the  parties,  he  could  hope  to  win  in  Ireland  still,  —  that 
Greek  girl,  and  what  he  called  her  perfidy,  would  occupy  a 
most  disproportionate  share  of  his  thoughts,  and  a  larger 
place  in  his  heart  also?  The  simple  truth  is,  that  though  up 
to  this  Walpole  found  immense  pleasure  in  his  flirtation  with 
Nina  Kostalergi,  yet  his  feeling  for  her  now  was  nearer 
love  than  anything  he  had  experienced  before.  The  bare 
suspicion  that  a  woman  could  jilt  him,  or  the  possible  thought 
that  a  rival  could  be  found  to  supplant  him,  gave,  by  the 
very  pain  it  occasioned,  such  an  interest  to  the  episode  that 
he  could  scarcely  think  of  anything  else.  That  the  most 
effectual  way  to  deal  with  the  Greek  was  to  renew  his  old 
relations  with  his  cousin  Ladj^  Maude  was  clear  enough. 
*'At  least  I  snail  seem  to  be  the  traitor,"  thought  he, 
''  and  she  shall  not  glory  in  the  thought  of  having  deceived 
7ne."  While  he  was  still  revolving  these  thoughts  he  ar- 
rived at  the  Castle,  and  learned  as  he  crossed  the  door  that 
his  Lordship  was  impatient  to  see  him. 

Lord  Danesbury  had  never  been  a  fluent  speaker  in  public, 
while  in  private  life  a  natural  indolence  of  disposition, 
improved,  so  to  say,  by  an  Eastern  life,  had  made  him  so 
sparing  of  his  words  that  at  times  when  he  was  ill  or  indis- 
posed he  could  never  be  said  to  converse  at  all,  and  his  talk 


AWAKENINGS.  373 

consisted  of  very  short  sentences  strung  loosely  together,  and 
not  un frequently  so  ill-connected  as  to  show  that  an  unex- 
pressed thought  very  often  intervened  between  the  uttered 
fragments.  Except  to  men  who,  like  Walpole,  knew  him 
intimately,  he  was  all  but  unintelligible.  The  private  secre- 
tary, however,  understood  how  to  fill  up  the  blanks  in  any 
discourse,  and  so  follow  out  indications  which,  to  less  prac- 
tised eyes,  left  no  footmarks  behind  them. 

His  Excellency,  slowly  recovering  from  a  sharp  attack  of 
gout,  was  propped  by  pillows,  and  smoking  a  long  Turkish 
pipe,  as  Cecil  entered  the  room  and  saluted  him.  ''  Come  at 
last,"  was  his  Lordship's  greeting.  "Ought  to  have  been 
here  weeks  ago.  Read  that."  And  he  pushed  towards  him 
a  "  Times,"  with  a  mark  on  the  margin :  "To  ask  the 
Secretary  for  Ireland  whether  the  statement  made  by  certain 
newspapers  in  the  North  of  a  correspondence  between  the 
Castle  authorities  and  the  Fenian  leader  was  true,  and  whether 
such  correspondence  could  be  laid  on  the  table  of  the 
House?" 

"  Read  it  out,"  cried  the  Viceroy,  as  Walpole  conned  over 
the  paragraph  somewhat  slowly  to  himself. 

"  I  think,  my  Lord,  when  you  have  heard  a  few  words  of 
explanation  from  me,  you  will  see  that  this  charge  has  not  the 
gravity  these  newspaper  people  would  like  to  attach  to  it." 

"Can't  be  explained  —  nothing  could  justify  —  infernal 
blunder  —  and  must  go." 

"  Pray,  my  Lord,  vouchsafe  me  even  five  minutes." 

"See  it  all  —  balderdash  —  explain  nothing —  Cardinal 
more  offended  than  the  rest — and  here,  read."  And  he 
pushed  a  letter  towards  him,  dated  Downing  Street,  and 
marked  private.  "  The  idiot  you  left  behind  you  has  been 
betrayed  into  writing  to  the  rebels  and  making  conditions 
with  them.     To  disown  him  now  is  not  enough." 

"  Really,  my  Lord,  I  don't  see  why  I  should  submit  to  the 
indignity  of  reading  more  of  this." 

His  Excellency  crushed  the  letter  in  his  hand,  and  puffed 
very  vigorously  at  his  pipe,  which  was  nearly  extinguished. 
"Must  go,"  said  he,  at  last,  as  a  fresh  volume  of  smoke 
rolled  forth. 

"That  I  can  believe  —  that  I  can  understand,  my  Lord. 


874  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

When  you  tell  me  you  cease  to  endorse  my  pledges,  I  feel  I 
am  a  bankrupt  in  your  esteem." 

"  Others  smashed  in  the  same  insolvency  —  inconceivable 
blunder  —  where  was  Cartright?  —  what  was  Holmes  about? 
No  one  in  Dublin  to  keep  you  out  of  this  cursed  folly?  " 

"Until  your  Lordship's  patience  will  permit  me  to  say  a 
few  words,  I  cannot  hope  to  justify  my  conduct." 

"  No  justifying  —  no  explaining  —  no  !  regular  smash  and 
complete  disgrace.     Must  go." 

"  I  am  quite  ready  to  go.  Your  Excellency  has  no  need 
to  recall  me  to  the  necessity." 

"Knew  it  all  —  and  against  my  will,  too — said  so  from 
the  first  —  thing  I  never  liked  —  nor  see  my  way  in.  Must 
go  —  must  go." 

"I  presume,  mj^  Lord,  I  may  leave  you  now.  I  want  a 
bath  and  a  cup  of  coffee." 

"  Answer  that!  "  was  the  gruff  reply,  as  he  tossed  across 
the  table  a  few  lines  signed,  "  Bertie  Spencer,  Private 
Secretary." 

"  I  am  directed  to  request  that  Mr.  Walpole  will  enable 
the  Right  Honorable  Mr.  Annihough  to  give  the  flattest 
denial  to  the  enclosed." 

"That  must  be  done  at  once,"  said  the  Viceroy,  as  the 
other  ceased  to  read  the  note. 

"  It  is  impossible,  my  Lord  ;  I  cannot  deny  my  own  hand- 
writing." 

"Annihough  will  find  some  road  out  of  it,"  muttered  the 
other.  ^^You  were  a  fool,  and  mistook  your  instructions,  or 
the  constable  was  a  fool  and  required  a  misdirection,  or  the 
Fenian  was  a  fool,  which  he  would  have  been  if  he  gave  the 
pledge  you  ask  for.     Must  go  all  the  same." 

"  But  I  am  quite  ready  to  go,  my  Lord,"  rejoined  Walpole, 
angrily.  "There  is  no  need  to  insist  so  often  on  that 
point." 

"  Who  talks,  — who  thinks  of  you,  sir?"  cried  the  other, 
with  an  irritated  manner.  "  I  speak  of  myself.  It  is  /must 
resign,  —  no  great  sacrifice,  perhaps,  after  all ;  stupid  oflSce, 
—  false  position  —  impracticable  people.  Make  them  all 
Papists  to-morrow,  and  ask  to  be  Hindoos.  They  've  got  the 
land,  and  not  content  if  they  can't  shoot  the  landlords !  " 


AWAKENINGS.  3T5 

*'  If  you  think,  my  Lord,  that  by  any  personal  explanation 
of  mine  I  could  enable  the  Minister  to  make  his  answer  in 
the  House  more  plausible —  " 

"  Leave  the  plausibility  to  himself,  sir,"  and  then  he 
added,  half  aloud;  "he'll  be  unintelligible  enough  without 
you.  There,  go,  and  get  some  breakfast,  —  come  back 
afterwards,  and  I  '11  dictate  my  letter  of  resignation.  Maude 
has  had  a  letter  from  Atlee.  Shrewd  fellow,  Atlee,  —  done 
the  thing  well." 

As  Walpole  was  near  the  door,  his  Excellency  said,  "  You 
can  have  Guatemala,  if  they  have  not  given  it  away.  It  will 
get  you  out  of  Europe,  which  is  the  first  thing,  and  with  the 
yellow  fever  it  may  do  more." 

''  I  am  profoundly  grateful,  my  Lord,"  said  he,  bowing 
low. 

"  Maude  of  course  would  not  go,  so  it  ends  that.'' 

"  I  am  deeply  touched  by  the  interest  your  Lordship 
vouchsafes  to  my  concerns." 

'*Try  and  live  five  years,  and  you'll  have  a  retiring  allow- 
ance. The  last  fellow  did,  but  was  eaten  by  a  crocodile  out 
bathing."  And  with  this  he  resumed  his  "  Times,"  and 
turned  away,  while  Walpole  hastened  off  to  his  room,  in  a 
frame  of  mind  very  far  from  comfortable  or  reassuring. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

*'  A    CHANCE    AGREEMENT." 

As  Dick  Kearney  and  young  O'Sbea  had  never  attained  any 
close  intimacy,  a  strange  sort  of  half -jealousy,  inexplicable 
as  to  its  cause,  served  to  keep  them  apart :  it  was  by  mere 
accident  that  the  two  young  men  met  one  morning  after 
breakfast  in  the  garden,  and,  on  Kearney's  offer  of  a  cigar, 
the  few  words  that  followed  led  to  a  conversation. 

''  I  cannot  pretend  to  give  you  a  choice  Havanna,  like  one 
of  Walpole's,"  said  Dick,  '^  but  you'll  perhaps  find  it 
smokable." 

"I'm  not  difficult,"  said  the  other ;  "  and  as  to  Mr.  Wal- 
pole's tobacco,  I  don't  think  I  ever  tasted  it." 

"  And  I,"  rejoined  the  other,  "  as  seldom  as  I  could;  I 
mean,  only  when  politeness  obliged  me." 

''  I  thought  you  liked  him?  "  said  Gorman,  shortly. 

*'  I?  Far  from  it.  I  thought  liim  a  consummate  puppy, 
and  I  saw  that  he  looked  down  on  us  as  inveterate  savages.'* 

"  He  was  a  favorite  with  your  ladies,  I  think?  " 

"Certainly  not  with  my  sister,  and  I  doubt  very  much 
with  my  cousin.     Do  tjou  like  him  ?  " 

"  No,  not  at  all :  but  then  he  belongs  to  a  class  of  men  I 
neither  understand  nor  sympathize  with.  Whatever  /  know 
of  life  is  associated  with  downright  hard  work.  As  a  soldier 
I  had  my  five  hours'  daily  drill  and  the  care  of  my  equip- 
ments, as  a  lieutenant  I  had  to  see  that  my  men  kept  to 
their  duty,  and  whenever  I  chanced  to  have  a  little  leisure  I 
could  not  give  it  up  to  ennui,  or  consent  to  feel  bored  and 
wearied." 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say  you  had  to  groom  your  horse 
and  clean  your  arms  when  you  served  in  the  ranks  ?  " 


"A  CHANCE  AGREEMENT."  377 

*'  Not  always.  As  a  cadet  I  had  a  soldier-servant,  what 
we  call  a  '  Bursche ;  '  but  there  were  periods  when  I  was  out 
of  funds,  and  barely  able  to  grope  my  way  to  the  next 
quarter  day,  and  at  these  times  I  had  but  one  meal  a  day, 
and  obliged  to  draw  my  waist-belt  pretty  tight  to  make  me 
feel  I  had  eaten  enough.  A  Bursche  costs  very  little,  but  I 
could  not  spare  even  that  little." 

"  Confoundedly  hard  that." 

*' All  my  own  fault.  By  a  little  care  and  foresight,  even 
without  thrift,  I  had  enough  to  live  as  well  as  I  ought ;  but 
a  reckless  dash  of  the  old  spendthrift  blood  I  came  of  would 
master  me  now  and  then,  and  I'd  launch  out  into  some 
extravagance  that  would  leave  me  penniless  for  months 
after." 

"I  believe  I  can  understand  that.  One  does  get  horribly 
bored  by  the  monotony  of  a  well-to-do  existence;  just  as  I 
feel  my  life  here  —  almost  insupportable." 

''But  you  are  going  into  Parliament;  you  are  going  to 
be  a  great  public  man." 

"That  bubble  has  burst  already;  don't  you  know  what 
happened  at  Birr?  They  tore  down  all  Miller's  notices  and 
mine,  they  smashed  our  booths,  beat  our  voters  out  of  the 
town,  and  placed  Donogan  —  the  rebel  Donogan  —  at  the 
head  of  the  poll,  and  the  Head-Centre  is  now  M.P.  for 
King's  County." 

"And  has  he  a  right  to  sit  in  the  House?" 

"There  's  the  question.  The  matter  is  discussed  every 
day  in  the  newspapers,  and  there  are  as  many  for  as  against 
him.  Some  aver  that  the  popular  will  is  a  sovereign  edict 
that  rises  above  all  eventualities;  others  assert  that  the 
sentence  which  pronounces  a  man  a  felon  declares  him  to  be 
dead  in  law." 

"And  which  side  do  you  incline  to?" 

"I  believe  in  the  latter;  he  '11  not  be  permitted  to  take  his 
seat." 

"You'll  have  another  chance,  then?" 

"No;  I'll  venture  no  more.  Indeed,  but  for  this  same;' 
man  Donogan,  I  had  never  thought  of  it.  He  filled  my  head 
with  ideas  of  a  great  part  to  be  played  and  a  proud  place : 
to  be  occupied,  and  that,  even  without  high  abilities,  a  man ' 


378  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

of  a  strong  will,  a  fixed  resolve,  and  an  honest  conscience, 
might,  at  this  time,  do  great  things  for  Ireland." 

*'  And  then  betrayed  you  ?  " 

"  No  such  thing ;  he  no  more  dreamed  of  Parliament  him- 
self than  you  do  now.  He  knew  he  was  liable  to  the  law, 
he  was  hiding  from  the  police,  and  well  aware  that  there 
was  a  price  upon  his  head." 

"  But  if  he  was  true  to  you,  why  did  he  not  refuse  this 
honor  ?  why  did  he  not  decline  to  be  elected  ?  " 

"They  never  gave  him  the  choice.  Don't  you  see  it  is 
one  of  the  strange  signs  of  the  strange  times  we  are  living 
in  that  the  people  fix  upon  certain  men  as  their  natural 
leaders  and  compel  them  to  march  in  the  van,  and  that  it  is 
the  force  at  the  back  of  these  leaders  that,  far  more  than 
their  talents,  makes  them  formidable  in  public  life  ?  " 

"I  only  follow  it  in  part.  I  scarcely  see  what  they  aim 
at,  and  I  do  not  know  if  they  see  it  more  clearly  themselves. 
And  now,  what  will  you  turn  to  ?  " 

*'I  wish  you  could  tell  me." 

"About  as  blank  a  future  as  my  own,"  muttered  Gor- 
man. 

"Come,  come,  you  have  a  career.  You  are  a  lieutenant 
of  lancers ;  in  time  you  will  be  a  captain,  and  eventually 
a  colonel,  and  who  knows  but  a  general  at  last,  with 
Heaven  knows  how  many  crosses  and  medals  on  your 
breast." 

"Nothing  less  likely;  the  day  is  gone  by  when  English- 
men were  advanced  to  places  of  high  honor  and  trust  in  the 
Austrian  arm3^  There  are  no  more  field-marshals  like 
Nugent  than  major-generals  like  O'Connell.  I  might  be 
made  a  Rittmeister,  and  if  1  lived  long  enough,  and  was 
not  superannuated,  a  major;  but  there  my  ambition  must 
cease." 

"And  you  are  content  with  that  prospect?" 

"Of  course  I  am  not.  I  go  back  to  it  with  something 
little  short  of  despair." 

"Why  go  back,  then?" 

"Tell  me  what  else  to  do;  tell  me  what  other  road  in  life 
to  take;  show  me  even  one  alternative." 

The  silence  that  now  succeeded  lasted  several  minutes, 


"A  CHANCE  AGREEMENT."  379 

each  immersed  in  his  own  thoughts,  and  each,  doubtless, 
convinced  how  little  presumption  he  had  to  advise  or  coun- 
sel the  other. 

"Do  you  know,  O'Shea,"  cried  Kearney,  "I  used  to  fancy 
that  this  Austrian  life  of  yours  was  a  mere  caprice;  that 
you  took  '  a  cast, '  as  we  call  it  in  the  hunting-field,  amongst 
those  fellows  to  see  what  they  were  like  and  what  sort  of  an 
existence  was  theirs;  but  that  being  your  aunt's  heir,  and 
with  a  snug  estate  that  must  one  day  come  to  you,  it  was  a 
mere  '  lark,'  and  not  to  be  continued  beyond  a  year  or 
two?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  never  presumed  to  think  I  should  be 
my  aunt's  heir,  — and  now,  less  than  ever.  Do  you  know 
that  even  the  small  pension  she  has  allowed  me  hitherto  is 
now  about  to  be  withdrawn,  and  I  shall  be  left  to  live  on 
my  pay?" 

"How  much  does  that  mean?  " 

"A  few  pounds  more  or  less  than  you  pay  for  youi 
saddle-horse  at  livery  at  Dycer's." 

"You  don't  mean  that?  " 

"I  do  mean  it;  and  even  that  beggarly  pittance  is 
stopped  when  I  am  on  my  leave ;  so  that  at  this  moment  my 
whole  worldly  wealth  is  here,"  and  he  took  from  his  pocket 
a  handful  of  loose  coin,  in  which  a  few  gold  pieces  glittered 
amidst  a  mass  of  discolored  and  smooth-looking  silver. 

"On  my  oath,  I  believe  you  are  the  richer  man  of  the 
two,"  cried  Kearney;  "for,  except  a  few  half-crowns  on  my 
dressing-table,  and  some  coppers,  I  don't  believe  I  am 
master  of  a  coin  with  the  Queen's  image." 

"I  say,  Kearney,  what  a  horrible  take-in  we  should  prove 
to  mothers  with  daughters  to  marry !  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  You  may  impose  upon  an}^  one  else, 
—  your  tailor,  your  boot-maker,  even  the  horsey  gent  that 
jobs  your  cabriolet,  —  but  you  '11  never  cheat  the  mamma 
who  has  the  daughter  on  sale." 

Gorman  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  more  than  ordinary 
irritability  with  which  these  words  were  spoken,  and 
charged  him  at  last  with  having  uttered  a  personal 
experience. 

"True,  after  all,"  said  Dick,  half  indolently.     "I  used 


380  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

to  spoon  a  pretty  girl  up  in  Dublin,  ride  with  her  when  I 
could,  and  dance  with  her  at  all  the  balls;  and  a  certain 
chum  of  mine  —  a  Joe  Atlee,  of  whom  you  may  have  heard 
—  undertook,  simply  by  a  series  of  artful  rumors  as  to  my 
future  prospects,  —  now  extolling  me  as  a  man  of  fortune 
and  a  fine  estate,  to-morrow  exhibiting  me  as  a  mere  pre- 
tender with  a  mock  title  and  mock  income,  —  to  determine 
how  I  should  be  treated  in  this  family ;  and  he  would  say  to 
me,  '  Dick,  you  are  going  to  be  asked  to  dinner  on  Saturday 
next; '  or,  '  I  say,  old  fellow,  they  're  going  to  leave  you  out 
of  that  picnic  at  Powerscourt.  You  '11  find  the  Clancys 
rather  cold  at  your  next  meeting.'" 

"And  he  would  be  right  in  his  guess?" 

"To  the  letter!  Ay,  and  I  shame  to  say  that  the  young 
girl  answered  the  signal  as  promptly  as  the  mother." 

"  I  hoped  it  cured  you  of  your  passion  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  that  it  did.  When  you  begin  to  like  a 
girl,  and  find  that  she  has  regularly  installed  herself  in  a 
corner  of  your  heart,  there  is  scarcely  a  thing  she  can  do 
you  '11  not  discover  a  good  reason  for;  and  even  when  your 
ingenuity  fails,  go  and  pay  a  visit.  There  is  some  artful 
witchery  in  that  creation  you  have  built  up  about  her,  —  for 
I  heartily  believe  most  of  us  are  merely  clothing  a  sort  of 
lay  figure  of  loveliness  with  attributes  of  our  fancy,  —  and 
the  end  of  it  is,  we  are  about  as  wise  about  our  idols  as  the 
South  Sea  savages  in  their  homage  to  the  gods  of  their  own 
carving." 

"I  don't  think  that!  "  said  Gorman,  sternly.  "I  could 
no  more  invent  the  fascination  that  charms  me  than  I  could 
model  a  Venus  or  an  Ariadne." 

"I  see  where  your  mistake  lies.  You  do  all  this,  and 
never  know  you  do  it.  Mind,  I  am  only  giving  you  Joe 
Atlee' s  theory  all  this  time;  for,  though  I  believe  in,  I  never 
invented  it." 

"And  who  is  Atlee?" 

"  A  chum  of  mine  —  a  clever  dog  enough  —  who,  as  he 
says  himself,  takes  a  very  low  opinion  of  mankind,  and,  in 
consequence,  finds  this  a  capital  world  to  live  in." 

"I  should  hate  the  fellow." 

"Not  if  you  met  him.     He  can  be  very  companionable. 


"A  CHANCE  AGREEMENT."  381 

though  I  never  saw  any  one  take  less  trouble  to  please.  He 
is  popular  almost  everywhere." 

"I  know  I  should  hate  him." 

''My  cousin  Nina  thought  the  same,  and  declared  from 
the  mere  sight  of  his  photograph  that  he  was  false  and 
treacherous,  and  Heaven  knows  what  else  besides ;  and  now 
she  '11  not  suffer  a  word  in  his  disparagement.  She  began 
exactly  as  you  say  you  would,  by  a  strong  prejudice  against 
him.  I  remember  the  day  he  came  down  here,  —  her  man- 
ner towards  him  was  more  than  distant;  and  I  told  my  sister 
Kate  how  it  offended  me,  and  Kate  only  smiled  and  said, 
'  Have  a  little  patience,  Dick.'  " 

"And  you  took  the  advice?  You  did  have  a  little 
patience?" 

"Yes ;  and  the  end  is  they  are  firm  friends.  I  'm  not  sure 
they  don't  correspond." 

"Is  there  love  in  the  case,  then?" 

"That  is  what  I  cannot  make  out.  So  far  as  I  know 
either  of  them,  there  is  no  trustfulness  in  their  dispositions ; 
each  of  them  must  see  into  the  nature  of  the  other.  I  have 
heard  Joe  Atlee  say,  '  With  that  woman  for  a  wife  a  man 
might  safely  bet  on  his  success  in  life.'  And  she  herself 
one  day  owned,  '  If  a  girl  was  obliged  to  marry  a  man  with- 
out sixpence,  she  might  take  Atlee.'  " 

"So,  I  have  it,  they  will  be  man  and  wife  yet! " 

"Who  knows !     Have  another  weed  ?  " 

Gorman  declined  the  offered  cigar,  and  again  a  pause  in 
the  conversation ' followed.  At  last  he  suddenly  said,  "She 
told  me  she  thought  she  would  marry  Walpole." 

"She  told  you  that?  How  did  it  come  about  to  make 
you  such  a  confidence?  " 

"Just  this  way.  I  was  getting  a  little  —  not  spooney  — 
but  attentive,  and  rather  liked  hanging  after  her;  and  in 
one  of  our  walks  in  the  wood  —  and  there  was  no  flirting  at 
the  time  between  us  —  she  suddenly  said,  'I  don't  think  you 
are  half  a  bad  fellow.  Lieutenant.'  '  Thanks  for  the  compli- 
ment,' said  I,  coldly.  She  never  heeded  my  remark,  but 
went  on,  '  I  mean,  in  fact,  that  if  you  had  something  to  live 
for,  and  somebody  to  care  about,  there  is  just  the  sort  of 
stuff  in  you  to  make  you  equal  to  both. '     Not  exactly  know- 


382  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

ing  vv^hat  I  said,  and  half,  only  half  in  earnest,  I  answered, 
'  Why  can  I  not  have  one  to  care  for?  '  And  I  looked  ten- 
derly into  her  eyes  as  I  spoke.  She  did  not  wince  under 
my  glance.  Her  face  was  calm,  and  her  color  did  not 
change;  and  she  was  full  a  minute  before  she  said,  with  a 
faint  sigh,  '  I  suppose  I  shall  marry  Cecil  Walpole.'  '  Do 
you  mean,'  said  I,  '  against  your  will?  '  '  Who  told  you  I 
had  a  will,  sir?  '  said  she,  haughtily;  '  or  that  if  I  had  I 
should  now  be  walking  here  in  this  wood  alone  with  you  ? 
No,  no,'  added  she,  hurriedly,  '  you  cannot  understand  me. 
There  is  nothing  to  be  offended  at.  Go  and  gather  me 
some  of  those  wild  flowers,  and  we  '11  talk  of  something 
else.'" 

"How  like  her!  —  how  like  her!"  said  Dick,  and  then 
looked  sad  and  pondered.  "I  was  very  near  falling  in  love 
with  her  myself!  "  said  he,  after  a  considerable  pause. 

"  She  has  a  way  of  curing  a  man  if  he  should  get  into 
such  an  indiscretion,"  muttered  Gorman;  and  there  was 
bitterness  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke. 

"Listen!  listen  to  that!"  and  from  the  open  window  of 
the  house  there  came  the  prolonged  cadence  of  a  full,  sweet 
voice,  as  Nina  was  singing  an  Irish  ballad  air.  "That's 
for  my  father!  '  Kathleen  Mavourneen  '  is  one  of  his  favor- 
ites, and  she  can  make  him  cry  over  it." 

"I'm  not  very  soft-hearted,"  muttered  Gorman,  "but 
she  gave  me  a  sense  of  fulness  in  the  throat,  like  choking, 
the  other  day,  that  I  vowed  to  myself  I  'd  never  listen  to 
that  song  again." 

"It  is  not  her  voice —  it  is  not  the  music  —  there  is  some 
witchery  in  the  woman  herself  that  does  it,"  cried  Dick, 
almost  fiercely.  "Take  a  walk  with  her  in  the  wood,  saun- 
ter down  one  of  these  alleys  in  the  garden,  and  I  '11  be  shot 
if  your  heart  will  not  begin  to  beat  in  another  fashion,  and 
your  brain  to  weave  all  sorts  of  bright  fancies,  in  which  she 
will  form  the  chief  figure;  and  though  you'll  be  half  in- 
clined to  declare  your  love,  and  swear  that  you  cannot  live 
without  her,  some  terror  will  tell  you  not  to  break  the  spell 
of  your  delight,  but  to  go  on  w^alking  there  at  her  side,  and 
hearing  her  words,  just  as  though  that  ecstasy  could  last 
forever." 


"A  CHANCE  AGREEMENT."  383 

"I  suspect  you  are  in  love  with  her,"  said  O'Shea,  dryly. 

''Not  now,  not  now;  and  I'll  take  care  not  to  have  a 
relapse,"  said  he,  gravely. 

"How  do  you  mean  to  manage  that?  " 

"The  only  one  way  it  is  possible,  — not  to  see  her,  nor  to 
hear  her;  not  to  live  in  the  same  land  with  her.  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  Australia.  I  don't  well  know 
what  to  do  when  I  get  there ;  but  whatever  it  be,  and  what- 
ever it  cost  me  to  bear,  I  shall  meet  it  without  shrinking, 
for  there  will  be  no  old  associates  to  look  on  and  remark 
upon  my  shabby  clothes  and  broken  boots." 

"What  will  the  passage  cost  you?"  asked  Gorman, 
eagerly. 

"I  have  ascertained  that  for  about  fifty  pounds  I  can  land 
myself  in  Melbourne;  and  if  I  have  a  ten-pound  note 
after,  it  is  as  much  as  I  mean  to  provide." 

"If  I  can  raise  the  money,  I  '11  go  with  you,"  said  O'Shea. 

"Will  you?  is  thig  serious?  is  it  a  promise?" 

"I  pledge  my  word  on  it.  I  '11  go  over  to  the  Barn  to-day 
and  see  my  aunt.  I  thought  up  to  this  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  go  there,  but  I  will  now.  It  is  for  the  last  time 
in  my  life,  and  I  must  say  good-bye,  whether  she  helps  me 
or  not." 

"You  '11  scarcely  like  to  ask  her  for  money,"  said  Dick. 

"Scarcely;  at  all  events,  I  '11  see  her,  and  I  '11  tell  her  that 
I  'm  going  away,  with  no  other  thought  in  my  mind  than  of 
all  the  love  and  affection  she  had  for  me ;  worse  luck  mine 
that  I  have  not  got  them  still." 

"Shall  I  walk  over, with —  ?  would  you  rather  be  alone?  " 

"I  believe  so!     I  think  I  should  like  to  be  alone." 

"Let  us  meet,  then,  on  this  spot,  to-morrow,  and  decide 
what  is  to  be  done?  " 

"Agreed,"  cried  O'Shea,  and  with  a  warm  shake-hands 
to  ratify  the  pledge,  they  parted;  Dick  towards  the  lower 
part  of  the  garden,  while  O'Shea  turned  towards  the  house. 


CHAPTER   LIII. 


We  have  all  of  us  felt  how  depressing  is  the  sensation  felt 
in  a  family  circle  in  the  first  meeting  after  the  departure  of 
their  guests.  The  friends  who  have  been  staying  some  time 
in  your  house  not  onl}^  bring  to  the  common  stock  their  share 
of  pleasant  converse  and  companionship,  but,  in  the  quality 
of  strangers,  they  exact  a  certain  amount  of  effort  for  their 
amusement,  which  is  better  for  him  who  gives  than  for  the 
recipient;  and  they  impose  that  small  reserve  which 
excludes  the  purely  personal  inconveniences  and  contrarie- 
ties, which,  unhappily,  in  strictly  family  intercourse,  have 
no  small  space  allotted  them  for  discussion. 

It  is  but  right  to  say  that  they  who  benefit  most  by,  and 
most  gratefully  acknowledge  this  boon  of  the  visitors,  are 
the  young.  The  elders,  sometimes  more  disposed  to  indo- 
lence than  effort,  sometimes  irritable  at  the  check  essen- 
tially put  upon  many  little  egotisms  of  daily  use,  and  oftener 
than  either,  perhaps,  glad  to  get  back  to  the  old  groove  of 
home  discussion,  unrestrained  by  the  presence  of  stran- 
gers ;  the  elders,  I  say,  are  now  and  then  given  to  express 
a  most  ungracious  gratitude  for  being  once  again  to  them- 
selves, and  free  to  be  as  confidential,  and  outspoken,  and 
disagreeable  as  their  hearts  desire. 

The  dinner  at  Kilgobbin  Castle  on  the  day  I  speak  of, 
consisted  solely  of  the  Kearney  family,  and,  except  in  the 
person  of  the  old  man  himself,  no  trace  of  pleasantry  could 
be  detected.  Kate  had  her  own  share  of  anxieties.  A 
number  of  notices  had  been  served  by  refractory  tenants 
for  demands  they  were  about  to  prefer  for  improvements, 
under  the  new  land  act.  The  passion  for  litigation  so  dear 
to  the  Irish  peasant's  heart,  —  that  sense  of  having  some- 
thing to  be  quibbled   for,  so  exciting  to  the    imaginative 


"A  SCRAPE/'  385 

nature  of  the  Celt,  had  taken  possession  of  all  the  tenants 
on  the  estate,  and  even  the  well-to-do  and  the  satisfied  were 
now  bestirring  themselves  to  think  if  they  had  not  some 
grievance  to  be  turned  into  profit,  and  some  possible  hard- 
ship to  be  discounted  into  an  abatement. 

Dick  Kearney,  entirely  preoccupied  by  the  thought  of  his 
intended  journey,  already  began  to  feel  that  the  things  of 
home  touched  him  no  longer.  A  few  months  more  and  he 
should  be  far  away  from  Ireland  and  her  interests ;  and  why 
should  he  harass  himself  about  the  contests  of  party  or  the 
balance  of  factions,  which  never  again  could  have  any  bear- 
ing on  his  future  life  ?  His  whole  thought  was  what  arrange- 
ment he  could  make  with  his  father  by  which,  for  a  little 
present  assistance,  he  might  surrender  all  his  right  on  the 
entail,  and  give  up  Kilgobbin  forever. 

As  for  Nina,  her  complexities  were  too  many  and  too 
much  interwoven  for  our  investigation,  and  there  were 
thoughts  of  all  the  various  persons  she  had  met  in  Ireland, 
mingled  with  scenes  of  the  past,  and,  more  strangely  still, 
the  people  placed  in  situations  and  connections  which  by 
no  likelihood  should  they  ever  have  occupied.  The  thought 
that  the  little  comedy  of  every-day  life,  which  she  relished 
immensely,  was  now  to  cease  for  lack  of  actors,  made  her 
serious,  almost  sad,  —  and  she  seldom  spoke  during  the 
meal. 

At  Loi'd  Kilgobbin 's  request,  that  they  would  not  leave 
him  to  take  his  wine  alone,  they  drew  their  chairs  round  the 
dining-room  fire;  but,  except  the  bright  glow  of  the  ruddy 
turf  and  the  pleasant  look  of  the  old  man  himself,  there  was 
little  that  smacked  of  the  agreeable  fireside. 

''What  has  come  over  you  girls  this  evening?  "  said  the 
old  man.  "Are  you  in  love,  or  has  the  man  that  ought  to 
be  in  love  with  either  of  you  discovered  it  was  only  a  mis- 
take he  was  making  ?  " 

"Ask  Nina,  sir,"  said  Kate,  gravely. 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  uncle,"  said  Nina,  dreamily. 

"In  which  of  my  guesses,  — the  first  or  the  last?  " 

"Don't  puzzle  me,  sir,  for  I  have  no  head  for  a  subtle 
distinction.  I  only  meant  to  say  it  is  not  so  easy  to  be  in 
love  without  mistakes.     You   mistake   realities   and  traits 

25 


386  LORD   KILGOBBIX. 

for  something  not  a  bit  like  them,  and  you  mistake  yourself 
by  imagining  that  you  mind  them." 

"I  don't  think  I  understand  you,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Very  likely  not,  sir.  I  do  not  know  if  I  had  a  meaning 
that  I  could  explain." 

"  Nina  wants  to  tell  you,  my  Lord,  that  the  right  man  has 
not  come  forward  yet,  and  she  does  not  know  whether  she  '11 
keep  the  place  open  in  her  heart  for  him  any  longer,"  said 
Dick,  with  a  half  malicious  glance. 

"That  terrible  Cousin  Dick!  nothing  escapes  him,"  said 
Nina,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"Is  there  any  more  in  the  newspapers  about  that  scandal 
of  the  Government?"  cried  the  old  man,  turning  to  Kate. 
"Is  there  not  going  to  be  some  inquiry  as  to  whether  his 
Excellency  wrote  to  the  Fenians  ?  " 

"There  are  a  few  words  here,  papa,"  cried  Kate,  opening 
the  paper.  "  '  In  reply  to  the  question  of  Sir  Barnes  Malone 
as  to  the  late  communications  alleged  to  have  passed  be- 
tween the  head  of  the  Irish  Government  and  the  Head- 
Centre  of  the  Fenians,  the  Right  Honorable  the  First  Lord 
of  the  Treasury  said,  "That  the  question  would  be  more 
properly  addressed  to  the  noble  Lord  the  Secretary  for  Ire- 
land, who  was  not  then  in  the  House.  Meanwhile,  sir,'* 
continued  he,  "I  will  take  on  myself  the  responsibility  of 
saying  that  in  this,  as  in  a  variety  of  other  cases,  the  zeal 
of-  party  has  greatly  outstripped  the  discretion  tl\at  should 
govern  political  warfare.  The  exceptional  state  of  a  nation, 
in  which  the  administration  of  justice  mainly  depends  on 
those  aids  which  a  rigid  morality  might  disparage;  the 
social  state  of  a  people  whose  integrity  calls  for  the  appli- 
cation of  means  the  most  certain  to  disseminate  distrust  and 
disunion,  —  are  facts  which  constitute  reasons  for  political 
action  that,  however  assailable  in  the  mere  abstract,  the 
mind  of  statesmanlike  form  will  at  once  accept  as  solid  and 
effective,  and  to  reject  which  would  only  show  that,  in  over- 
looking the  consequences  of  sentiment,  a  man  can  ignore 
the  most  vital  interests  of  his  country.'"" 

"Does  he  say  that  they  wrote  to  Donogan?  "  cried  Kilgob- 
bin,  whose  patience  had  been  sorely  pushed  by  the  Premier's 
exordium. 


"A  SCRAPE.'*  387 

"Let  me  read  on,  papa." 

"Skip  all  that,  and  get  down  to  a  simple  question  and 
answer,  Kitty;  don't  read  the  long  sentences." 

''This  is  how  he  winds  up,  papa.  '  "  I  trust  I  have  now, 
sir,  satisfied  the  House  that  there  are  abundant  reasons  why 
this  correspondence  should  not  be  produced  on  the  table, 
while  I  have  further  justified  my  noble  friend  for  a  course 
of  action  in  which  the  humanity  of  the  man  takes  no  lustre 
from  the  glory  of  the  statesman,"  —  then  there  are  some 
words  in  Latin,  —  '  and  the  Right  Honorable  gentleman 
resumed  his  seat  amidst  loud  cheers,  in  which  some  of  the 
Opposition  were  heard  to  join. '  " 

"  I  want  to  be  told,  after  all,  did  they  write  the  letter  to 
say  Donogan  was  to  be  let  escape?  " 

"Would  it  have  been  a  great  crime,  uncle?"  said  Nina, 
artlessly. 

"  I'm  not  going  into  that.  I  'm  only  asking  what  the 
people  over  us  say  is  the  best  way  to  govern  us.  I  'd  like 
to  know,  once  for  all,  what  was  wrong  and  what  was  right 
in  Ireland." 

"Has  not  the  Premier  just  told  you,  sir,"  replied  Nina, 
"that  it  is  always  the  reverse  of  what  obtains  everywhere 
else?" 

"I  have  had  enough  of  it,  anyhow,"  cried  Dick,  who, 
though  not  intending  it  before,  now  was  carried  away  by  a 
momentary  gust  of  passion  to  make  the  avowal. 

"Have  you  been  in  the  Cabinet  all  this  time,  then,  with- 
out our  knowing  it?"  asked  Nina,  archly. 

"It  is  not  of  the  Cabinet  I  was  speaking.  Mademoiselle. 
It  was  of  the  country."     And  he  answered  haughtily. 

"And  where  would  you  go,  Dick,  and  find  better?"  said 
Kate. 

"Anywhere.  I  should  find  better  in  America,  in  Canada, 
in  the  Far  West,  in  New  Zealand,  —  but  I  mean  to  try  in 
Australia." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  when  you  get  there  ?  "  asked  Kil- 
gobbin,  with  a  grim  humor  in  his  look. 

"Do  tell  me,  Cousin  Dick;  for  who  knows  that  it  might 
not  suit  me  also." 

Young  Kearney  filled  his  glass,  and  drained  it  without 


388  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

speaking.  At  last  he  said,  "It  will  be  for  you,  sir,  to  say 
if  I  make  the  trial.  It  is  clear  enough,  I  have  no  course 
open  to  me  here.  For  a  few  hundred  pounds,  or,  indeed, 
for  anything  you  like  to  give  me,  you  get  rid  of  me  forever. 
It  will  be  the  one  piece  of  economy  my  whole  life 
comprises." 

"Stay  at  home,  Dick,  and  give  to  your  own  country  the 
energy  you  are  willing  to  bestow  on  a  strange  land,"  said 
Kate. 

"And  labor  side  by  side  with  the  peasant  I  have  looked 
down  upon  since  I  was  able  to  walk." 

"Don't  look  down  on  him,  then;  do  it  no  longer.  If  you 
would  treat  the  first  stranger  you  met  in  the  bush  as  your 
equal,  begin  the  Christian  practice  in  your  own  country." 

"But  he  needn't  do  that  at  all,'*  broke  in  the  old  man. 
"If  he  would  take  to  strong  shoes  and  early  rising  here  at 
Kilgobbin,  he  need  never  go  to  Geelong  for  a  living.  Your 
great-grandfathers  lived  here  for  centuries,  and  the  old 
house  that  sheltered  them  is  still  standing." 

"What  should  I  stay  for  —  ?  "  He  had  got  thus  far  when 
his  eyes  met  Nina's,  and  he  stopped  and  hesitated;  and, 
as  a  deep  blush  covered  his  face,  faltered  out,  "Gorman 
O'Shea  sajjs  he  is  ready  to  go  with  me,  and  two  fellows  with 
less  to  detain  them  in  their  own  country  would  be  hard  to 
find." 

"O'Shea  will  do  well  enough,"  said  the  old  man;  "be  was 
not  brought  up  to  kid-leather  boots  and  silk  linings  in  his 
great-coat.  There  's  stuff  in  him  ;  and  if  it  comes  to  sleep- 
ing under  a  haystack  or  dining  on  a  red-herring,  he  '11  not 
rise  up  with  rheumatism  or  heart-burn.  And  what 's  better 
than  all,  he  '11  not  think  himself  a  hero  because  he  mends  his 
own  boots  or  lights  his  own  kitchen-fire." 

"A  letter  for  your  honor,"  said  the  servant,  entering  with 
a  very  informal-looking  note  on  coarse  paper,  and  fastened 
with  a  wafer.  "The  gossoon,  sir,  is  waiting  for  an  answer; 
he  run  every  mile  from  Moate." 

"Read  it,  Kitty,"  said  the  old  man,  not  heeding  the  ser- 
vant's comment. 

"It  is  dated  'Moate  Jail,  seven  o'clock,'"  said  Kitty,  as 
she  read  :    "  '  Dear  Sir,  —  I  have  got  into  a  stupid  scrape, 


"A  SCRAPE."  389 

and  have  been  committed  to  jail.  Will  you  come,  or  send 
some  one  to  bail  me  out.  The  thing  is  a  mere  trifle,  but  the 
"  being  locked  up  "  is  very  hard  to  bear.  Yours  always,  — 
G.  O'Shea.'  " 

''  Is  this  more  Fenian  work?  "  cried  Kilgobbin. 

"  I  'm  certain  it  is  not,  sir,"  said  Dick.  "  Gorman  O'Shea 
has  no  liking  for  them,  nor  is  he  the  man  to  sympathize 
with  what  he  owns  he  cannot  understand.  It  is  a  mere 
accidental  row." 

"At  all  events  we  must  see  to  set  him  at  liberty.  Order 
the  gig,  Dick,  and  while  they  are  putting  on  the  harness  I  '11 
finish  this  decanter  of  port.  If  it  was  n't  that  we  're  getting 
retired  shopkeepers  on  the  bench  we'd  not  see  an  O'Shea 
sent  to  prison  like  a  gossoon  that  stole  a  bunch  of  turnips." 

"What  has  he  been  doing,  I  wonder?"  said  Nina,  as  she 
drew  her  arm  within  Kate's  and  left  the  room. 

"Some  loud  talk  in  the  bar-parlor,  perhaps,"  was  Kate's 
reply,  and  the  toss  of  her  head  as  she  said  it  implied  more 
even  than  the  words. 


CHAPTER   LIV. 

*'  HOW    IT    BEFELL." 

While  Lord  Kilgobbin  and  his  son  are  plodding  along 
towards  Moate  with  a  horse  not  long  released  from  the 
harrow,  and  over  a  road  which  the  late  rains  had  sorely 
damaged,  the  moment  is  not  inopportune  to  explain  the 
nature  of  the  incident,  small  enough  in  its  way,  that  called 
on  them  for  this  journey  at  nightfall.  It  befell  that  when 
Miss  Betty,  indignant  at  her  nephew's  defection,  and  out- 
raged that  he  should  descend  to  call  at  Kilgobbin,  determined 
to  cast  him  off  forever,  she  also  resolved  upon  a  project 
over  which  she  had  long  meditated,  and  to  which  the  con- 
versation at  her  late  dinner  greatly  predisposed  her. 

The  growing  unfertility  of  the  land,  the  sturdy  rejection 
of  the  authority  of  the  Church,  manifested  in  so  man}^  ways 
by  the  people,  had  led  Miss  O'Shea  to  speculate  more  on  the 
insecurity  of  landed  property  in  Ireland  than  all  the  long 
list  of  outrages  scheduled  at  Assizes,  or  all  the  burning 
haggards  that  ever  flared  in  a  wintry  sky.  Her  notion  was 
to  retire  into  some  religious  sisterhood,  and,  away  from  life 
and  its  cares,  to  pass  her  remaining  years  in  holy  meditation 
and  piety.  She  would  have  liked  to  have  sold  her  estate  and 
endowed  some  house  or  convent  with  the  proceeds  ;  but  there 
w^ere  certain  legal  difficulties  that  stood  in  the  way,  and  her 
law  agent,  McKeown,  must  be  seen  and  conferred  with 
about  these. 

Her  moods  of  passion  were  usually  so  very  violent  that 
she  would  stop  at  nothing ;  and  in  the  torrent  of  her  anger 
she  would  decide  on  a  course  of  action  which  would  color  a 
whole  lifetime.  On  the  present  occasion  her  first  step  was  to 
write  and  acquaint  McKeown  that  she  would  be  at  Moodie's 


"HOW   IT  BEFELL."  391 

Hotel,  Dominick  Street,  the  same  evening,  and  begged  he 
might  call  there  at  eight  or  nine  o'clock,  as  her  business  with 
him  was  pressing.  Her  next  care  was  to  let  the  house  and 
lands  of  O'Shea's  Barn  to  Peter  Gill,  for  the  term  of  one 
year,  at  a  rent  scarcely  more  than  nominal,  the  said  Gill 
binding  himself  to  maintain  the  gardens,  the  shrubberies, 
and  all  the  ornamental  plantings  in  their  accustomed  order 
and  condition.  In  fact,  the  extreme  moderation  of  the  rent 
was  to  be  recompensed  by  the  large  space  allotted  to  unprofit- 
able land,  and  the  great  care  he  was  pledged  to  exercise  in 
its  preservation,  and  while  nominally  the  tenant,  so  manifold 
were  the  obligations  imposed  on  him,  he  was  in  reality  very 
little  other  than  the  care-taker  of  O'Shea's  Barn  and  its  de- 
pendencies. No  fences  were  to  be  altered,  or  boundaries 
changed.  All  the  copses  of  young  timber  were  to  be  care- 
fully protected  by  palings  as  heretofore,  and  even  the  or- 
namental cattle  —  the  short-horns,  and  the  Alderneys  —  and 
a  few  favorite  "Kerries"  were  to  be  kept  on  the  allotted 
paddocks  ;  and  to  old  Kattoo  herself  was  allotted  a  loose  box, 
with  a  small  field  attached  to  it,  where  she  might  saunter  at 
will,  and  ruminate  over  the  less  happy  quadrupeds  that  had 
to  work  for  their  subsistence. 

Now,  though  Miss  Betty,  in  the  full  torrent  of  her  anger, 
had  that  much  of  method  in  her  madness  to  remember  the 
various  details,  whose  interests  were  the  business  of  her 
daily  life,  and  so  far  made  provision  for  the  future  of  her 
pet  cows  and  horses  and  dogs  and  guinea-fowls,  so  that  if 
she  should  ever  resolve  to  return  she  should  find  all  as  she 
had  left  it,  —  the  short  paper  of  agreement  by  which  she  ac- 
cepted Gill  as  her  tenant  was  drawn  up  by  her  own  hand, 
unaided  by  a  lawyer;  and,  whether  from  the  intemperate 
haste  of  the  moment,  or  an  unbounded  confidence  in  Gill's 
honesty  and  fidelity,  was  not  only  carelessly  expressed,  but 
worded  in  a  way  that  implied  how  her  trustfulness  exone- 
rated her  from  anything  beyond  the  expression  of  what  she 
wished  for  and  what  she  believed  her  tenant  would  strictly 
perform.  Gill's  repeated  phrase  of  ' '  Whatever  her  honor's 
ladyship  liked  "  had  followed  every  sentence  as  she  read 
the  document  aloud  to  him ;  and  the  only  real  puzzle  she 
had  was  to  explain  to  the  poor  man's  simple  comprehension 


392  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

that  she  was  not  making  a  hard  bargain  with  him,  but  treat- 
ing him  handsomely  and  in  all  confidence. 

Shrewd  and  sharp  as  the  old  lady  was,  versed  in  the  habits 
of  the  people,  and  long  trained  to  suspect  a  certain  air  of 
dulness,  by  which,  when  asking  the  explanation  of  a  point, 
they  watch,  with  a  native  casuistry,  to  see  what  flaw  or 
chink  may  open  an  equivocal  meaning  or  intention, — she 
was  thoroughly  convinced  b}^  the  simple  and  unreasoning 
concurrence  this  humble  man  gave  to  every  proviso,  and 
the  hearty  assurance  he  always  gave  ''that  her  honor  knew 
what  was  best.  God  reward  and  keep  her  long  in  the  way 
to  do  it !  "  —  with  all  this.  Miss  O'Shea  had  not  accomplished 
the  first  stage  of  her  journey  to  Dublin,  when  Peter  Gill  was 
seated  in  the  office  of  Pat  McEvoy,  the  attorney  at  Moate, 
—  a  smart  practitioner,  who  had  done  more  to  foster  litiga- 
tion between  tenant  and  landlord  than  all  the  "grievances'* 
that  ever  were  placarded  by  the  press. 

"  When  did  you  get  this,  Peter? "  said  the  attorney,  as  he 
looked  about,  unable  to  find  a  date. 

"  This  morning,  sir,  just  before  she  started." 

''You'll  have  to  come  befor.e  the  magistrate  and  make 
an  oath  of  the  date,  and,  by  my  conscience,  it's  worth 
the  trouble." 

"  Why,  sir,  what 's  in  it?  "  cried  Peter,  eagerly. 

"  1  'm  no  lawyer  if  she  has  n't  given  you  a  clear  possession 
of  the  place,  subject  to  certain  trusts,  and  even  for  the  non- 
performance of  these  there  is  no  penalty  attached.  When 
Councillor  Holmes  comes  down  at  the  Assizes,  I  '11  lay  a  case 
before  him,  and  I  '11  wager  a  trifle,  Peter,  you  will  turn  out 
to  be  an  estated  gentleman." 

"  Blood  alive !  "  was  all  Peter  could  utter. 

Though  the  conversation  that  ensued  occupied  more  than 
an  hour,  it  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  repeat  what 
occurred,  nor  state  more  than  the  fact  that  Peter  went 
home  fully  assured  that  if  O'Shea's  Barn  was  not  his  own 
indisputably,  it  would  be  very  hard  to  dispossess  him,  and 
that,  at  all  events,  the  occupation  was  secure  to  him  for 
the  present.  The  importance  that  the  law  always  attaches 
to  possession  Mr.  McEvoy  took  care  to  impress  on  Gill's 
mind,    and  he  fully  convinced  him   that  a  forcible  seizure 


"HOW  IT  BEFELL."  393 

of  the  premises  was  far  more  to  be  apprehended  than  the 
slower  process  of  a  suit  and  a  verdict. 

It  was  about  the  third  week  after  this  opinion  had  been 
given,  when  young  O'Shea  walked  over  from  Kilgobbin 
Castle  to  the  Barn,  intending  to  see  his  aunt  and  take  his 
farewell  of  her. 

Though  he  had  steeled  his  heart  against  the  emotion  such 
a  leave-taking  was  likely  to  evoke,  he  was  in  nowise  prepared 
for  the  feelings  the  old  place  itself  would  call  up,  and  as  he 
opened  a  little  wicket  that  led  by  a  shrubbery  walk  to  the 
cottage,  he  was  glad  to  throw  himself  on  the  first  seat  he 
could  find,  and  wait  till  his  heart  could  beat  more  meas- 
uredly.  What  a  strange  thing  was  life,  —  at  least  that 
conventional  life  we  make  for  ourselves,  —  was  his  thought 
now.  "Here  am  I  ready  to  cross  the  globe,  to  be  the 
servant,  the  laborer  of  some  rude  settler  in  the  wilds  of 
Australia,  and  yet  I  cannot  be  the  herdsman  here,  and 
tend  the  cattle  in  the  scenes  that  I  love,  where  every  tree, 
every  bush,  every  shady  nook,  and  every  running  stream  is 
dear  to  me.  I  cannot  serve  my  own  kith  and  kin,  but 
must  seek  my  bread  from  the  stranger!  This  is  our  glo- 
rious civilization.  I  should  like  to  hear  in  what  consists 
its  marvellous  advantage." 

And  then  he  began  to  think  of  those  men  of  whom  he 
had  often  heard, — gentlemen  and  men  of  refinement, — 
who  had  gone  out  to  Australia,  and  who,  in  all  the  drudg- 
ery of  daily  labor,  —  herding  cattle  on  the  plains  or 
conducting  droves  of  horses  long  miles  of  way,  —  still 
managed  to  retain  the  habits  of  their  better  days,  and,  by 
the  instinct  of  the  breeding  which  had  become  a  nature, 
to  keep  intact  in  their  hearts  the  thoughts  and  the  sym- 
pathies and  the  affections  that  made  them  gentlemen. 

"If  my  dear  aunt  only  knew  me  as  I  know  myself,  she 
would  let  me  stay  here  and  serve  her  as  the  humblest 
laborer  on  her  land.  I  can  see  no  indignity  in  being  poor 
and  faring  hardly.  I  have  known  coarse  food  and  coarse 
clothing,  and  I  never  found  that  they  either  damped  my 
courage  or  soured  my  temper." 

It  might  not  seem  exactly  the  appropriate  moment  to  have 
bethought  him  of  the  solace  of  companionship  in  such  pov- 


394  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

erty,  but  somehow  his  thoughts  did  take  that  flight,  and 
unwarrantable  as  was  the  notion,  he  fancied  himself  return- 
ing at  nightfall  to  his  lowly  cabin,  and  a  certain  girlish 
figure,  whom  our  reader  knows  as  Kate  Kearney,  standing 
watching  for  his  coming. 

There  was  no  one  to  be  seen  about  as  he  approached  the 
house.  The  hall  door,  however,  lay  open.  He  entered  and 
passed  on  to  the  little  breakfast-parlor  on  the  left.  The 
furniture  was  the  same  as  before,  but  a  coarse  fustian 
jacket  was  thrown  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  a  clay  pipe 
and  a  paper  of  tobacco  stood  on  the  table.  While  he  was 
examining  these  objects  with  some  attention,  a  very  ragged 
urchin,  of  some  ten  or  eleven  years,  entered  the  room  with 
a  furtive  step,  and  stood  watching  him.  From  this  fellow 
all  that  he  could  hear  was  that  Miss  Betty  was  gone  away, 
and  that  Peter  was  at  the  Kilbeggan  Market,  and  though 
he  tried  various  questions,  no  other  answers  than  these 
were  to  be  obtained.  Gorman  now  tried  to  see  the  draw- 
ing-room and  the  library,  but  these,  as  well  as  the  dining- 
room,  were  all  locked.  He  next  essayed  the  bedrooms, 
but  with  the  same  unsuccess.  At  length  he  turned  to  his 
own  well-known  corner,  — the  well-remembered  little  "  green- 
room,"—  which  he  loved  to  think  his  own.  This,  too,  was 
locked ;  but  Gorman  remembered  that  by  pressing  the  door 
underneath  with  his  walking-stick  he  could  lift  the  bolt 
from  the  old-fashioned  receptacle  that  held  it,  and  open  the 
door.  Curious  to  have  a  last  look  at  a  spot  dear  by  so 
many  memories,  he  tried  the  old  artifice  and  succeeded. 

He  had  still  on  his  watch-chain  the  little  key  of  an  old 
marquetrie  cabinet,  where  he  was  wont  to  write,  and  now 
he  was  determined  to  write  a  last  letter  to  his  aunt  from 
the  old  spot,  and  send  her  his  good-bye  from  the  very  cor- 
ner where  he  had  often  come  to  wish  her  "  good-night." 

He  opened  the  window  and  walked  out  on  the  little 
wooden  balcony,  from  which  the  view  extended  over  the 
lawn  and  the  broad  belt  of  wood  that  fenced  the  demesne. 
The  Sliebh  Bloom  Mountain  shone  in  the  distance,  and  in 
the  calm  of  an  evening  sunlight  the  whole  picture  had 
something  in  its  silence  and  peacefulness  of  almost  raptur- 
ous charm. 


"HOW  IT  BEFELL."  395 

Who  is  there  amongst  us  that  has  not  felt,  in  walking 
through  the  room  of  some  uninhabited  house,  with  every 
appliance  of  human  comfort  strewn  about,  ease  and  luxury 
within,  wavy  trees  and  sloping  lawn  or  eddying  waters 
without,  —  who,  in  seeing  all  these,  has  not  questioned  him- 
self as  to  why  this  should  be  deserted?  and  why  is  there 
none  to  taste  and  feel  all  the  blessedness  of  such  a  lot 
as  life  here  should  offer?  Is  not  the  world  full  of  these 
places?  is  not  the  puzzle  of  this  query  of  all  lands  and  of 
all  peoples?  That  ever-present  delusion  of  what  we  should 
do,  what  be  if  we  were  aught  other  than  ourselves,  — 
how  happy,  how  contented,  how  unrepining,  and  how  good, 
—  ay,  even  our  moral  nature  comes  into  the  compact,  — 
this  delusion,  I  say,  besets  most  of  us  through  life,  and  we 
never  weary  of  believing  how  cruelly  fate  has  treated  us, 
and  how  unjust  destiny  has  been  to  a  variety  of  good  gifts 
and  graces  which  are  doomed  to  die  unrecognized  and 
unrequited. 

I  will  not  go  to  the  length  of  saying  that  Gorman 
C Shea's  reflections  went  thus  far,  though  they  did  go  to 
the  extent  of  wondering  why  his  aunt  had  left  this  lovely 
spot,  and  asked  himself,  again  and  again,  where  she  could 
possibly  have  found  anything  to  replace  it. 

"My  dearest  aunt,"  wrote  he,  "in  my  own  old  room  at  the 
dear  old  desk,  and  on  the  spot  knitted  to  my  heart  by  happiest 
memories,  I  sit  down  to  send  you  my  last  good-bye  ere  I  leave  Ireland 
forever. 

"  It  is  in  no  mood  of  passing  fretfulness  or  impatience  that  I 
resolve  to  go  and  seek  my  fortune  in  Australia.  As  I  feel  now, 
believing  you  are  displeased  with  me,  I  have  no  heart  to  go  further 
into  the  question  of  my  own  selfish  interests,  nor  say  why  I  resolve 
to  give  up  soldiering,  and  why  I  turn  to  a  new  existence.  Had  I 
been  to  you  what  I  have  hitherto  been,  had  I  the  assurance  that  I 
possessed  the  old  claim  on  your  love  which  made  me  regard  you  as 
a  dear  mother,  I  should  tell  you  of  every  step  that  has  led  me  to  this 
determination,  and  how  carefully  and  anxiously  I  tried  to  study  what 
might  be  the  turning-point  of  my  life." 

When  he  had  written  thus  far  and  his  eyes  had  already 
grown  glassy  with  the  tears  which  would  force  their  way 
across  them,    a   heavy   foot  was  heard  on  the   stairs,  the 


396  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

door  was  burst  rudely  open,  and  Peter  Gill  stood  before 
him. 

No  longer,  however,  the  old  peasant  in  shabby  clothes 
and  with  his  look  half-shy,  half-sycophant,  but  vulgarly 
dressed  in  broadcloth  and  bright  buttons,  a  tall  hat  on 
his  head,  and  a  crimson  cravat  round  his  neck.  His  face 
was  flushed,  and  his  eye  flashing  and  insolent,  so  that 
O'Shea  only  feebly  recognized  him  by  his  voice. 

"You  thought  you'd  be  too  quick  for  me,  j^oung  man," 
said  the  fellow,  and  the  voice  in  its  thickness  showed  he  had 
been  drinking,  "and  that  you  would  do  your  bit  of  writ- 
ing there  before  I'd  be   back;   but  I  was  up  to  you." 

"  I  really  do  not  know  what  you  mean,"  cried  O'Shea, 
rising ;  "  and  as  it  is  only  too  plain  you  have  been  drinking, 
I  do  not  care  to  ask  you." 

' '  Whether  1  was  drinking  or  no  is  my  own  business ; 
there 's  none  to  call  me  to  account  now.  I  am  here  in  my 
own  house,  and  I  order  you  to  leave  it,  and  if  you  don't  go 
by  the  way  you  came  in,  by  my  soul  you  '11  go  by  that  win- 
dow !  "  A  loud  bang  of  his  stick  on  the  floor  gave  the 
emphasis  to  the  last  words  ;  and  whether  it  was  the  action  or 
the  absurd  figure  of  the  man  himself  overcame  O'Shea,  he 
burst  out  in  a  hearty  laugh  as  he  surveyed  him.  "  I  '11  make 
it  no  laughing  matter  to  you,"  cried  Gill,  wild  with  passion ; 
and,  stepping  to  the  door,  he  cried  out,  "Come  up,  boys, 
every  man  of  ye;  come  up  and  see  the  chap  that's  trying  to 
turn  me  out  of  my  holding." 

The  sound  of  voices  and  the  tramp  of  feet  outside  now 
drew  O'Shea  to  the  window,  and,  passing  out  on  the  balcony, 
he  saw  a  considerable  crowd  of  country  people  assembled 
beneath.  They  were  all  armed  with  sticks,  and  had  that 
look  of  mischief  and  daring  so  unmistakable  in  a  mob.  As 
the  young  man  stood  looking  at  them,  some  one  pointed  him 
out  to  the  rest,  and  a  wild  yell,  mingled  with  hisses,  now 
broke  from  the  crowd.  He  was  turning  away  from  the  spot 
in  disgust  when  he  found  that  Gill  had  stationed  himself  at 
the  window,  and  barred  the  passage. 

"  The  boys  want  another  look  at  ye,"  said  Gill,  insolently  ; 
"  go  back  and  show  yourself:  it  is  not  every  day  they  see 
an  informer." 


■£/P/^£l£^ 


OF   THE  ^ 

UNIVERSITY    // 

OF 


"HOW  IT  BEFELL."  397 

"  Stand  back,  you  old  fool,  and  let  me  pass,"  cried 
O'Shea. 

"  Touch  me  if  you  dare  ;  only  lay  one  finger  on  me  in  my 
own  house,"  said  the  fellow ;  and  he  grinned  almost  in  his 
face  as  he  spoke. 

"  Stand  back,"  said  Gorman,  and,  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  he  raised  his  arm  to  make  space  for  him  to  pass  out. 
Gill,  no  sooner  did  he  feel  the  arm  graze  his  chest,  than  he 
struck  O'Shea  across  the  face  ;  and  though  the  blow  was  that 
of  an  old  man,  the  insult  was  so  maddening  that  O'Shea, 
seizing  him  by  the  arms,  dragged  him  out  upon  the  balcony. 

"  He  's  going  to  throw  the  old  man  over,"  cried  several  of 
those  beneath;  and,  amidst  the  tumult  of  voices,  a  number 
soon  rushed  up  the  stairs  and  out  on  the  balcony,  where  the 
old  fellow  was  clinging  to  O'Shea's  legs  in  his  despairing 
attempt  to  save  himself.  The  struggle  scarcely  lasted  many 
seconds ;  for  the  rotten  wood-work  of  the  balcony  creaked 
and  trembled,  and  at  last  gave  way  with  a  crash,  bringing 
the  whole  party  to  the  ground  together. 

A  score  of  sticks  rained  their  blows  on  the  luckless  young 
man,  and  each  time  that  he  tried  to  rise  he  was  struck  back 
and  rolled  over  by  a  blow  or  a  kick,  till  at  length  he  lay 
still  and  senseless  on  the  sward,  his  face  covered  with  blood 
and  his  clothes  in  ribbons. 

"  Put  him  in  a  cart,  boys,  and  take  him  off  to  the  jail," 
said  the  attorney,  McEvoy.  "  We'll  be  in  a  scrape  about 
all  this,  if  we  don't  make  him  in  the  wrong." 

His  audience  fully  appreciated  the  counsel,  and  while  a 
few  were  busied  in  carrying  old  Gill  to  the  house  —  for  a 
broken  leg  made  him  unable  to  reach  it  alone  —  the  others 
placed  O'Shea  on  some  straw  in  a  cart,  and  set  out  with  him 
to  Kilbeggan. 

"  It  is  not  a  trespass  at  all,"  said  McEvoy.  "  I'll  make 
it  a  burglary  and  forcible  entry,  and  if  he  recovers  at  all, 
I  '11  stake  my  reputation  I  transport  him  for  seven  years." 

A  hearty  murmur  of  approval  met  the  speech ;  and  the 
procession,  with  the  cart  at  their  head,  moved  on  towards 
the  town. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

TWO    J.   P.'S. 

It  was  the  Tory  magistrate,  Mr.  Flood,  —  the  same  who  had 
ransacked  Walpole's  correspondence,  —  before  whom  the  in- 
formations were  sworn  against  Gorman  O'Shea ;  and  the  old 
justice' of  the  peace  was,  in  secret,  not  sorry  to  see  the  ques- 
tion of  land-tenure  a  source  of  dispute  and  quarrel  amongst 
the  very  party  who  were  always  inveighing  against  the 
landlords. 

When  Lord  Kilgobbiu  arrived  at  Kilbeggan,  it  was  nigh 
midnight ;  and  as  young  OShea  was  at  that  moment  a  patient 
in  the  jail  infirmary,  and  sound  asleep,  it  was  decided 
between  Kearney  and  his  son  that  they  would  leave  him 
undisturbed  till  the  following  morning. 

Late  as  it  was,  Kearney  was  so  desirous  to  know  the  exact 
narrative  of  events  that  he  resolved  on  seeing  Mr.  Flood  at 
once.  Though  Dick  Kearney  remonstrated  with  his  father, 
and  reminded  him  that  old  Tom  Flood,  as  he  was  called,  was 
a  bitter  Tory,  had  neither  a  civil  word  nor  a  kind  thought  for 
his  adversaries  in  politics,  Kearney  was  determined  not  to  be 
turned  from  his  purpose  by  any  personal  consideration,  and 
being  assured  by  the  innkeeper  that  he  was  sure  to  find  Mr. 
Flood  in  his  dining-room  and  over  his  wine,  he  set  out  for 
the  snug  cottage  at  the  entrance  of  the  town,  where  the  old 
justice  of  the  peace  resided. 

Just  as  he  had  been  told,  Mr.  Flood  was  still  in  the  dinner- 
room,  and  with  his  guest,  Tony  Adams,  the  Rector,  seated 
with  an  array  of  decanters  between  them. 

''Kearney  —  Kearney!  "  cried  Flood,  as  he  read  the  card 
the  servant  handed  him.  '  "Is  it  the  fellow  who  calls  himself 
Lord  Kilgobbin,  I  wonder?" 

"  May  be  so,"  growled  Adams,  in  a  deep  guttural,  for  he 
disliked  the  effort  of  speech. 


TWO  J.  p/s.  399 

"  I  don't  know  him,  nor  do  I  want  to  know  him.  He  is 
one  of  your  half-and-half  Liberals  that,  to  my  thinking,  are 
worse  than  the  rebels  themselves !  What  is  this  here  in 
pencil  on  the  back  of  the  card  ?  '  Mr.  K.  begs  to  apologize 
for  the  hour  of  his  intrusion,  and  earnestly  entreats  a  few 
minutes  from  Mr.  Flood.'  Show  him  in,  Philip,  show  him 
in,  and  bring  some  fresh  glasses." 

Kearney  made  his  excuses  with  a  tact  and  politeness  which 
spoke  of  a  time  when  he  mixed  freely  with  the  world,  and 
old  Flood  was  so  astonished  by  the  ease  and  good  breeding 
of  his  visitor  that  his  own  manner  became  at  once  courteous 
and  urbane. 

"Make  no  apologies  about  the  hour,  Mr.  Kearney,"  said 
he.  *'  An  old  bachelor's  house  is  never  very  tight  in 
discipline.  Allow  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Adams,  Mr.  Kearney, 
the  best  preacher  in  Ireland,  and  as  good  a  judge  of  port 
wine  as  of  theology." 

The  responsive  grunt  of  the  parson  was  drowned  in  the 
pleasant  laugh  of  the  others,  as  Kearney  sat  down  and  filled 
his  glass.  In  a  very  few  words  he  related  the  reason  of  his 
visit  to  the  town,  and  asked  Mr.  Flood  to  tell  him  what  he 
knew  of  the  late  misadventure. 

"  Sworn  information,  drawn  up  by  that  worthy  man  Pat 
McEvoy,  the  greatest  rascal  in  Europe ;  and  I  hope  I  don't 
hurt  you  by  saying  it,  Mr.  Kearney.  Sworn  information 
of  a  burglarious  entry,  and  an  aggravated  assault  on  the 
premises  and  person  of  one  Peter  Gill,  another  local  bless- 
ing, —  bad  luck  to  him.  The  aforesaid  —  if  I  spoke  of 
him  before  —  Gorman  O'Shea,  having,  suadente  diaholo^ 
smashed  down  doors  and  windows,  palisadings  and  palings, 
and  broke  open  cabinets,  chests,  cupboards,  and  other  con- 
trivances. In  a  word,  he  went  into  another  man's  house, 
and  when  asked  what  he  did  there,  he  threw  the  proprietor 
out  of  the  window.     There 's  the  whole  of  it." 

"  Where  was  the  house?  " 

"  O'Shea's  Barn." 

"  But  surely  O'Shea's  Barn  being  the  residence  and  prop- 
erty of  his  aunt,  there  was  no  impropriety  in  his  going 
there?" 

''The  informant  states  that  the  place  was  in  the  tenancy 


400  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

of  this  said  Gill,  one  of  your  own  people,  Mr.  Kearney.  I 
wish  you  luck  of  him." 

"I  disown  him.  Root  and  branch;  he  is  a  disgrace  to 
any  side.     And  where  is  Miss  Betty  O'Shea?  " 

"  In  a  convent  or  a  monastery,  they  say.  She  has  turned 
abbess  or  monk;  but,  upon  my  conscience,  from  the  little 
I  've  seen  of  her,  if  a  strong  will  and  a  plucky  heart  be  the 
qualifications,  she  might  be  the  Pope !  " 

*'  And  are  the  young  man's  injuries  serious,  — is  he  badly 
hurt?  for  they  would  not  let  me  see  him  at  the  jail." 

"  Serious,  I  believe  they  are.  He  is  cut  cruelly  about  the 
face  and  head,  and  his  body  bruised  all  over.  The  finest 
peasantry  have  a  taste  for  kicking  with  strong  brogues  on 
them,  Mr.  Kearney,  that  cannot  be  equalled." 

' '  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  they  'd  kick  the  English  out  of 
Ireland !  "  cried  Kearney,  with  a  savage  energy. 

"Faith!  if  they  go  on  governing  us  in  the  present 
fashion,  I  do  not  say  I  '11  make  any  great  objection.  Eh, 
Adams?" 

"May  be  so!  "  was  the  slow  and  very  guttural  reply,  as 
the  fat  man  crossed  his  hands  on  his  waistcoat. 

"  I'm  sick  of  them  all,  Whigs  and  Tories,"  said  Kearney. 

"  Is  not  every  Irish  gentleman  sick  of  them,  Mr.  Kearney? 
Ain't  you  sick  of  being  cheated  and  cajoled,  and  ain't  we 
sick  of  being  cheated  and  insulted?  They  seek  to  conciliate 
you  by  outraging  us.  Don't  you  think  we  could  settle  our 
own  differences  better  amongst  ourselves?  It  was  Philpot 
Curran  said  of  the  fleas  in  Manchester,  that  if  they'd  all 
pull  together,  they  'd  have  pulled  him  out  of  bed.  Now,  Mr. 
Kearney,  what  if  we  all  took  to  '  pulling  together '  ?  " 

"We  cannot  get  rid  of  the  notion  that  we'd  be  out- 
jockeyed,"  said  Kearney,  slowly. 

"We  A;7ioz^;,"  cried  the  other,  "that  we  should  be  out- 
numbered, and  that  is  worse.     Eh,  Adams?  " 

"  Ay !  "  sighed  Adams,  who  did  not  desire  to  be  appealed 
to  by  either  side. 

"Now  we  're  alone  here,  and  no  eavesdropper  near  us,  tell 
me  fairly,  Kearney,  are  you  better  because  we  are  brought 
down  in  the  world  ?  Are  you  richer,  —  are  you  greater,  — 
are  you  happier?" 


TWO  J.  P.'S.  401 

"  I  believe  we  are,  Mr.  Flood,  and  I'll  tell  you  why  I  say 
so." 

"I'll  be  shot  if  I  hear  you,  that's  all.  Fill  your  glass. 
That 's  old  port  that  John  Beresford  tasted  in  the  Custom 
House  Docks  seventy-odd  years  ago,  and  you  are  the  only 
Whig  living  that  ever  drank  a  drop  of  it !  " 

''  1  am  proud  to  be  the  first  exception,  and  I  go  so  far  as 
to  believe  I  shall  not  be  the  last !  " 

"  I  '11  send  a  few  bottles  over  to  that  boy  in  the  infirmary. 
It  cannot  but  be  good  for  him,"  said  Flood. 

"  Take  care,  for  heaven's  sake,  if  he  be  threatened  with 
inflammation.     Do  nothing  without  the  doctor's  leave." 

"  I  wonder  why  the  people  who  are  so  afraid  of  inflamma- 
tion are  so  fond  of  rebellion,"  said  he,  sarcastically. 

"•  Perhaps  I  could  tell  you  that,  too —  " 

' '  No  ;  do  not  —  do  not,  I  beseech  you  ;  reading  the  Whig 
Ministers'  speeches  has  given  me  such  a  disgust  to  all  expla- 
nations, I  'd  rather  concede  anything  than  hear  how  it  could 
be  defended !  Apparently  Mr.  Disraeli  is  of  my  mind  also, 
for  he  won't  support  Paul  Hartigan's  motion." 

*'  What  was  Hartigan's  motion?  " 

*'  For  the  papers,  or  the  correspondence,  or  whatever  they 
called  it,  that  passed  between  Danesbury  and  Dan  Donogan.'* 

"  But  there  was  none." 

•'  Is  that  all  you  know  of  it?  They  were  as  thick  as  two 
thieves.  It  was  '  Dear  Dane,'  and  '  Dear  Dan,'  between 
them.  '  Stop  the  shooting.  We  want  a  light  calendar  at 
the  summer  assizes,'  says  one.  '  You  shall  have  forty 
thousand  pounds  yearly  for  a  Catholic  college,  if  the  House 
will  let  us.'  '  Thank  you  for  nothing  for  the  Catholic  col- 
lege,' says  Dan.  '  We  want  our  own  parliament  and  our 
own  militia;  free  pardon  for  political  offences.'  What 
would  you  say  to  a  bill  to  make  landlord-shooting  man- 
slaughter, Mr.  Kearney?" 

"Justifiable  homicide,  Mr.  Bright  called  it  years  ago;  but 
the  judges  did  n't  see  it." 

"  This  Danesbury  •  muddle,'  for  that  is  the  name  they  give 
it,  will  be  hushed  up  ;  for  he  has  got  some  Tory  connections, 
and  the  Lords  are  never  hard  on  one  of  their  '  order,'  so  I 
hear.     Hartigan  is  to  be  let  have  his  talk  out  in  the  House ; 

26 


402  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

and  as  he  is  said  to  be  violent  and  indiscreet,  the  Prime 
Minister  will  only  reply  to  the  violence  and  the  indiscretion, 
and  he  will  conclude  by  saying  that  the  noble  Viceroy  has 
begged  her  Majesty  to  release  him  of  the  charge  of  the 
Irish  Government;  and  though  the  Cabinet  have  urgently 
entreated  him  to  remain  and  carry  out  the  wise  policy  of 
conciliation  so  happily  begun  in  Ireland,  he  is  rooted  in  his 
resolve,  and  he  will  not  stay ;  and  there  will  be  cheers ;  and 
when  he  adds  that  Mr.  Cecil  Walpole,  having  shown  his 
great  talents  for  intrigue,  will  be  sent  back  to  the  fitting 
sphere, —  his  old  profession  of  diplomacy,  —  there  will  be 
laughter ;  for  as  the  Minister  seldom  jokes,  the  House  will 
imagine  this  to  be  a  slip,  and  then,  with  every  one  in  good 
humor,  —  but  Paul  Hartigan,  who  will  have  to  withdraw  his 
motion,  —  the  right  honorable  gentleman  will  sit  down,  well 
pleased  at  his  afternoon's  work." 

Kearney  could  not  but  laugh  at  the  sketch  of  a  debate 
given  with  all  the  mimicry  of  tone  and  mock  solemnity  of 
an  old  debater ;  and  the  two  men  now  became,  by  the  bond 
of  their  geniality,  like  old  acquaintances. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Kearney,  I  won't  say  we  'd  do  it  better  on  Col- 
lege Green,  but  we  'd  do  it  more  kindly,  more  courteously, 
and,  above  all,  we  'd  be  less  hypocritical  in  our  inquiries.  I 
believe  we  try  to  cheat  the  devil  in  Ireland  just  as  much 
as  our  neighbors.  But  we  don't  pretend  that  we  are  arch- 
bishops all  the  time  we  're  doing  it.  There 's  where  we 
differ  from  the  English." 

"  And  who  is  to  govern  us,"  cried  Kearney,  "if  we  have 
no  Lord-Lieutenant?  " 

"  The  Privy  Council,  the  Lords  Justices,  or  may  be  the 
Board  of  Works  ;  who  knows?  When  you  are  going  over  to 
Holyhead  in  the  packet,  do  you  ever  ask  if  the  man  at  the 
wheel  is  decent,  or  a  born  idiot,  and  liable  to  fits?  Not  a 
bit  of  it.  You  know  that  there  are  other  people  to  look  to 
this,  and  you  trust,  besides,  that  they'll  land  you  all  safe." 

"That's  true,"  said  Kearney,  and  he  drained  his  glass; 
"  and  now  tell  me  one  thing  more.  How  will  it  go  with 
young  O'Shea  about  this  scrimmage,  —  will  it  be  serious?  " 

"  Curtis,  the  chief  constable,  says  it  will  be  an  ugly  affair 
enough.     They'll  swear  hard,  and  they'll  try  to  make  out  a 


TWO  J.  p.'s.  403 

title  to  the  land  through  the  action  of  trespass ;  and  if,  as  I 
hear,  the  young  fellow  is  a  scamp  and  a  bad  lot  —  " 

"Neither  one  nor  the  other,"  broke  in  Kearney;  ''as  fine 
a  boy  and  as  thorough  a  gentleman  as  there  is  in  Ireland." 

"And  a  bit  of  a  Fenian,  too,"  slowly  interposed  Flood. 

"Not  that  I  know.  I  'm  not  sure  that  he  follows  the  dis- 
tinctions of  party  here ;  he  is  little  acquainted  with  Ireland." 

"Ho,  ho!  a  Yankee  sympathizer?" 

"Not  even  that;  an  Austrian  soldier,  a  young  lieutenant 
of  Lancers  over  here  for  his  leave. " 

"And  why  could  n't  he  shoot,  or  course,  or  kiss  the  girls, 
or  play  at  football,  and  not  be  burning  his  fingers  with  the 
new  land  laws?  There  's  plenty  of  ways  to  amuse  yourself 
in  Ireland  without  throwing  a  man  out  of  window,  —  eh, 
Adams?" 

And  Adams  bowed  his  assent,  but  did  not  utter  a  word. 

"You  are  not  going  to  open  more  wine?"  remonstrated 
Kearney,  eagerly. 

"It's  done.  Smell  that,  Mr.  Kearney,"  cried  Flood,  as 
he  held  out  a  fresh-drawn  cork  at  the  end  of  the  screw. 
"Talk  to  me  of  clove-pinks  and  violets  and  carnations 
after  that?  I  don't  know  whether  you  have  any  prayers  in 
your  Church  against  being  led  into  temptation.'* 

"Haven't  we!  "  sighed  the  other. 

"Then  all  I  say  is.  Heaven  help  the  people  at  Oporto; 
they  '11  have  more  to  answer  for  even  than  most  men." 

It  was  nigh  dawn  when  they  parted ;  Kearney  muttering 
to  himself  as  he  sauntered  back  to  the  inn,  "If  port  like 
that  is  the  drink  of  the  Tories,  they  must  be  good  fellows, 
with  all  their  prejudices." 

"I  '11  be  shot  if  I  don't  like  that  rebel,"  said  Flood,  as  he 
went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER   LVI. 

BEFORE     THE     DOOR. 

Though  Lord  Kilgobbin,  when  he  awoke  somewhat  late  in 
the  afternoon,  did  not  exactly  complain  of  headache,  he 
was  free  to  admit  that  his  faculties  were  slightly  clouded, 
and  that  his  memory  was  not  to  the  desired  extent  retentive 
of  all  that  passed  on  the  preceding  night.  Indeed,  beyond 
the  fact  —  which  he  reiterated  with  great  energy  —  that  "old 
Flood,  Tory  though  he  was,  was  a  good  fellow,  an  excellent 
fellow,  and  had  a  marvellous  bin  of  port  wine,"  his  son 
Dick  was  totally  unable  to  get  any  information  from  him. 
"  Bigot,  if  you  like,  or  Blue  Protestant,  and  all  the  rest  of 
it;  but  a  fine,  hearty  old  soul,  and  an  Irishman  to  the 
heart's  core!"  That  was  the  sum  of  information  which  a 
two  hours'  close  cross-examination  elicited ;  and  Dick  was 
sulkily  about  to  leave  the  room  in  blank  disappointment 
when  the  old  man  suddenly  amazed  him  by  asking,  "And 
do  you  tell  me  that  you  have  been  lounging  about  the  town 
all  the  morning  and  have  learned  nothing?  Were  you  down 
to  the  jail?  Have  you  seen  O'Shea?  What's  his  account 
of  it?  Who  began  the  row?  Has  he  any  bones  broken? 
Do  you  know  anything  at  all  ?  "  cried  he,  as  the  blank  look 
of  the  astonished  youth  seemed  to  imply  utter  ignorance  as 
well  as  dismay. 

"First  of  all,"  said  Dick,  drawing  a  long  breath,  "I 
have  not  seen  O'Shea;  nobody  is  admitted  to  see  him. 
His  injuries  about  the  head  are  so  severe  the  doctors  are  in 
dread  of  erysipelas." 

"What  if  he  had?  Have  not  every  one  of  us  had  the 
erysipelas  some  time  or  other;  and,  barring  the  itching, 
what 's  the  great  harm? " 


BEFORE  THE   DOOR.  405 

"The  doctors  declare  that  if  it  come  they  will  not  answer 
for  his  life." 

"They  know  best,  and  I'm  afraid  they  know  why,  also. 
Oh  dear,  oh  dear!  if  there  's  anything  the  world  makes  no 
progress  in,  it 's  the  science  of  medicine.  Everybody  now 
dies  of  what  we  all  used  to  have  when  I  was  a  boy!  Sore 
throats,  small-pox,  colic,  are  all  fatal  since  they  've  found 
out  Greek  names  for  them,  and  with  their  old  vulgar  titles 
they  killed  nobody." 

''Gorman  is  certainly  in  a  bad  way,  and  Dr.  Rogan  says 
it  will  be  some  days  before  he  could  pronounce  him  out  of 
danger." 

"Can  he  be  removed?  Can  we  take  him  back  with  us  to 
Kilgobbin?" 

"That  is  utterly  out  of  the  question;  he  cannot  be  stirred, 
and  requires  the  most  absolute  rest  and  quiet.  Besides 
that,  there  is  another  difficulty,  —  I  don't  know  if  they 
would  permit  us  to  take  him  away." 

"What!  do  you  mean  refuse  our  bail?" 

"They  have  got  affidavits  to  show  old  Gill's  life's  in 
danger;  he  is  in  high  fever  to-day,  and  raving  furiously; 
and  if  he  should  die,  McEvoy  declares  that  they  '11  be  able 
to  send  bills  for  manslaughter,  at  least,  before  the  grand 
jury." 

"There's  more  of  it!"  cried  Kilgobbin,  with  along 
whistle.     "Is  it  Rogan  swears  the  fellow  is  in  danger?" 

"No;  it 's  Tom  Price,  the  dispensary  doctor;  and  as  Miss 
Betty  withdrew  her  subscription  last  year,  they  say  he  swore 
he  'd  pay  her  ok  for  it." 

"I  know  Tom,  and  I  '11  see  to  that,"  said  Kearney.  "Are 
the  affidavits  sworn?" 

"No;  they  are  drawn  out.  McEvoy  is  copying  them 
now;  but  they  '11  be  ready  by  three  o'clock." 

"  I  '11  have  Rogan  to  swear  that  the  boy  must  be  removed 
at  once.  We  '11  take  him  over  with  us ;  and  once  at  Kilgob- 
bin, they  '11  want  a  regiment  of  soldiers  if  they  mean  to  take 
him.     It  is  nigh  twelve  o'clock,  now,  is  it  not?" 

"It  is  on  the  stroke  of  two,  sir." 

"Is  it  possible?  I  believe  I  overslept  myself  in  the 
strange  bed.     Be  alive  now,  Dick,  and  take  the  2.40  train 


406  LORD  KILGOBBIK 

to  town.  Call  on  McKeown,  and  find  out  where  Miss  Betty 
is  stopping ;  break  this  business  to  her  gently,  —  for  with 
all  that  damnable  temper  she  has  a  fine  womanly  heart;  tell 
her  the  poor  boy  was  not  to  blame  at  all ;  that  he  went  over 
to  see  her,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  place  being  let  out 
or  hired;  and  tell  her,  besides,  that  the  blackguards  that 
beat  him  were  not  her  own  people  at  all,  but  villains  from 
another  barony  that  old  Gill  brought  over  to  work  on  short 
wages.  Mind  that  you  say  that,  or  we  '11  have  more  law 
and  more  trouble,  —  notices  to  quit,  and  the  devil  knows 
what.  I  know  Miss  Betty  well,  and  she  'd  not  leave  a  man 
on  a  townland  if  they  raised  a  finger  against  one  of  her 
name!  There,  now,  you  know  what  to  do;  go  and  do 
it!  " 

To  hear  the  systematic  and  peremptory  manner  in  which 
the  old  man  detailed  all  his  directions,  one  would  have  pro- 
nounced him  a  model  of  orderly  arrangement  and  rule. 
Having  despatched  Dick  to  town,  however,  he  began  to 
bethink  him  of  all  the  matters  on  which  he  was  desirous  to 
learn  Miss  O' Shea's  mind.  Had  she  really  leased  the  Barn 
to  this  man  Gill;  and  if  so,  for  what  term?  And  was  her 
quarrel  with  her  nephew  of  so  serious  a  nature  that  she 
might  hesitate  as  to  taking  his  side  here,  —  at  least,  till  she 
knew  he  was  in  the  right;  and  then,  was  he  in  the  right? 
That  was,  though  the  last,  the  most  vital  consideration  of 
all. 

"I  'd  have  thought  of  all  these  if  the  boy  had  not  flurried 
me  so.  These  hot-headed  fellows  have  never  room  in  their 
foolish  brains  for  anything  like  consecutive  thought;  they 
can  just  entertain  the  one  idea,  and  till  they  dismiss  that 
they  cannot  admit  another.  Now,  he  '11  come  back  by  the 
next  train,  and  bring  me  the  answer  to  one  of  my  que- 
ries, if  even  that?"  sighed  he,  as  he  went  on  with  his 
dressing. 

"All  this  blessed  business,"  muttered  he  to  himself, 
*' comes  of  this  blundering  interference  with  the  land  laws. 
Paddy  hears  that  they  have  given  him  some  new  rights  and 
privileges,  and  *no  mock  modesty  of  his  own  will  let  him 
lose  any  of  them,  and  so  he  claims  everything.  Old  expe- 
rience had  taught  him  that  with  a  bold  heart  and  a  blunder- 


BEFORE   THE  DOOR.  407 

buss  he  need  not  pay  much  rent;  but  Mr.  Gladstone 
—  long  life  to  him  —  had  said,  '  We  must  do  something  for 
you.*  Now  what  could  that  be?  He'd  scarcely  go  so 
far  as  to  give  them  out  Minie  rifles  or  Chassepots,  though 
arms  of  precision,  as  they  call  them,  would  have  put  many 
a  poor  fellow  out  of  pain;  as  Bob  Magrath  said,  when  he 
limped  into  the  public-house  with  a  ball  in  his  back,  '  It 's 
only  a  "healing  measure; "  don't  make  a  fuss  about  it.'  " 

"Mr.  Flood  wants  to  see  your  honor  when  you  're  dressed," 
said  the  waiter,  interrupting  his  soliloquy. 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Walking  up  and  down,  sir,  forenent  the  door." 

"Will  ye  say  I'm  coming  down?  I'm  just  finishing  a 
letter  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant,"  said  Kilgobbin,  with  a  sly 
look  to  the  man,  who  returned  the  glance  with  its  rival,  and 
then  left  the  room. 

"  Will  you  not  come  in  and  sit  down  ?  "  said  Kearney,  as 
he  cordially  shook  Flood's  hand. 

"I  have  only  five  minutes  to  stay,  and  with  your  leave, 
Mr.  Kearney,  we'll  pass  it  here;"  and  taking  the  other's 
arm,  he  proceeded  to  walk  up  and  down  before  the  door  of 
the  inn. 

"You  know  Ireland  well,  — few  men  better,  I  am  told,  — 
and  you  have  no  need,  therefore,  to  be  told  how  the  rumored 
dislikes  of  party,  the  reported  jealousies  and  rancors  of 
this  set  to  that,  influence  the  world  here.  It  will  be  a  fine 
thing,  therefore,  to  show  these  people  here  that  the  Liberal, 
Mr.  Kearney,  and  that  bigoted  old  Tory,  Tom  Flood,  were 
to  be  seen  walking  together  and  in  close  confab.  It  will 
show  them,  at  all  events,  that  neither  of  us  wants  to  make 
party  capital  out  of  this  scrimmage,  and  that  he  who  wants 
to  affront  one  of  us  cannot,  on  that  ground  at  least,  count 
upon  the  other.  Just  look  at  the  crowd  that  is  watching  us 
already!  There  's  a  fellow  neglecting  the  sale  of  his  pig  to 
stare  at  us,  and  that  young  woman  has  stopped  gartering 
her  stocking  for  the  last  two  minutes  in  sheer  curiosity 
about  us." 

Kearney  laughed  heartily  as  he  nodded  assent. 

' '  You  follow  me,  don '  t  you  ?  "  asked  Flood.  ' '  Well,  then, 
grant  me  the  favor  I  'm  about  to  ask,  and  it  will  show  me 


408  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

that  you  see  all  these  things  as  I  do.  This  row  may  turn 
out  more  seriously  than  we  thought  for.  That  scoundrel 
Gill  is  in  a  high  fever  to-day;  I  would  not  say  that  just  out 
of  spite  the  fellow  would  not  die.  Who  knows  if  it  may 
not  become  a  great  case  at  the  assizes ;  and  if  so,  Kearney, 
let  us  have  public  opinion  with  us.  There  are  scores  of 
men  who  will  wait  to  hear  what  you  and  I  say  of  this 
business.  There  are  hundreds  more  who  will  expect  us  to 
disagree.  Let  us  prove  to  them  that  this  is  no  feud  between 
Orange  and  Green ;  this  is  nothing  of  dispute  between  Whig 
and  Tory,  or  Protestant  and  Papist,  but  a  free  fight  where, 
more  shame  to  them,  fifty  fell  upon  one.  Now  what  you 
must  grant  me  is  leave  to  send  this  boy  back  to  Kilgobbin 
in  my  own  carriage  and  with  my  oWn  liveries.  There  is 
not  a  peasant  cutting  turf  on  the  bog  will  not  reason  out  his 
own  conclusions  when  he  sees  it.  Don't  refuse  me,  for  I 
have  set  my  heart  on  it." 

"  I  'm  not  thinking  of  refusing.  I  was  only  wondering  to 
myself  what  my  daughter  Kitty  will  say  when  she  sees  me 
sitting  behind  the  blue  and  orange  liveries." 

"You  may  send  me  back  with  the  green  flag  over  me  the 
next  day  I  dine  with  you, "  cried  Flood ;  and  the  compact 
was  ratified. 

"It  is  more  than  half-past  already,"  said  Flood.  "We 
are  to  have  a  full  bench  at  three ;  so  be  ready  to  give  your 
bail,  and  I  '11  have  the  carriage  at  the  corner  of  the  street, 
and  you  shall  set  off  with  the  boy  at  once." 

"I  must  say,"  said  Kearney,  "whatever  be  your  Tory 
faults,  lukewarmness  is  not  one  of  them !  You  stand  to  me 
like  an  old  friend  in  all  this  trouble." 

"Maybe  it 's  time  to  begin  to  forget  old  grudges.  Kear- 
ney, I  believe  in  my  heart  neither  of  us  is  as  bad  as  the 
other  thinks  him.  Are  you  aware  that  they  are  getting 
aflSdavits  to  refuse  the  bail?" 

"I  know  it  all;  but  I  have  sent  a  man  to  McEvoy  about 
a  case  that  will  take  all  his  morning ;  and  he  '11  be  too  late 
with  his  affidavits." 

"By  the  time  he  is  ready  you  and  your  charge  will  be 
snug  in  Kilgobbin ;  and  another  thing,  Kearney,  —  for  I 
have  thought  of  the  whole  matter,  —  you  '11  take  out  with 


BEFORE  THE   DOOR.  409 

you  that  little  vermin  Price,  the  doctor,  and  treat  him  well. 
He  '11  be  as  indiscreet  as  you  wish;  and  be  sure  to  give  him 
the  opportunity.  There,  now,  give  me  your  most  affec- 
tionate grasp  of  the  hand,  for  there  's  an  attentive  public 
watching  us.'* 


CHAPTER   LVII. 

A    DOCTOR. 

Young  O'Shea  made  the  journey  from  Kilbeggan  to  Kil- 
gobbio  Castle  in  total  unconsciousness.  The  symptoms  had 
now  taken  the  form  which  doctors  call  concussion;  and 
though  to  a  first  brief  question  he  was  able  to  reply  reason- 
ably and  well,  the  effort  seemed  so  exhausting  that  to  all 
subsequent  queries  he  appeared  utterly  indifferent;  nor  did 
he  even  by  look  acknowledge  that  he  heard  them. 

Perfect  and  unbroken  quiet  was  enjoined  as  his  best,  if 
not  his  only,  remedy ;  and  Kate  gave  up  her  own  room  for 
the  sick  man,  as  that  most  remote  from  all  possible  disturb- 
ance, and  away  from  all  the  bustle  of  the  house.  The 
doctors  consulted  on  his  case  in  the  fashion  that  a  country 
physician  of  eminence  condescends  to  consult  with  a  small 
local  practitioner.  Dr.  Rogan  pronounced  his  opinion,  pro- 
phetically declared  the  patient  in  danger,  and  prescribed  his 
remedies ;  while  Price,  agreeing  with  everything,  and  even 
slavishly  abject  in  his  manner  of  concurrence,  went  about 
amongst  the  underlings  of  the  household,  saying,  "There  's 
two  fractures  of  the  frontal  bone.  It's  trepanned  he  ought 
to  be;  and  when  there's  an  inquest  on  the  body,  I'll 
declare  I  said  so." 

Though  nearly  all  the  care  of  providing  for  the  sick  man's 
nursing  fell  to  Kate  Kearney,  she  fulfilled  the  duty  without 
attracting  any  notice  whatever,  or  appearing  to  feel  as  if 
any  extra  demand  were  made  upon  her  time  or  her  atten- 
tion; so  much  so,  that  a  careless  observer  might  have 
thought  her  far  more  interested  in  providing  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  aunt  than  in  cares  for  the  nephew. 

Dick  Kearney  had  written  to  say  that  Miss  Betty  was  so 
overwhelmed   with   afl^iction   at   young   Gorman's   mishap 


A  DOCTOR.  411 

that  she  had  taken  to  bed,  and  could  not  be  expected  to  be 
able  to  travel  for  several  days.  She  insisted,  however,  on 
two  telegrams  daily  to  report  on  the  boy's  case,  and  asked 
which  of  the  great  Dublin  celebrities  of  physic  should  be 
sent  down  to  see  him. 

"They  're  all  alike  to  me,"  said  Kilgobbin;  "but  if  I  was 
to  choose,  I  think  I  'd  say  Dr.  Chute." 

This  was  so  far  unlucky,  since  Dr.  Chute  had  then  been 
dead  about  forty  years ;  scarcely  a  junior  of  the  profession 
having  so  much  as  heard  his  name. 

"We  really  want  no  one,"  said  Rogan.  "We  are  doing 
most  favorably  in  every  respect.  If  one  of  the  young 
ladies  would  sit  and  read  to  him,  but  not  converse,  it  would 
be  a  service.  He  made  the  request  himself  this  morning, 
and  I  promised  to  repeat  it." 

A  telegram,  however,  announced  that  Sir  St.  Xavier 
Brennan  would  arrive  the  same  evening;  and  as  Sir  X. 
was  physician-in-chief  to  the  nuns  of  the  Bleeding  Heart, 
there  could  be  little  doubt  whose  orthodoxy  had  chosen  him. 

He  came  at  nightfall,  —  a  fat,  comely-looking,  somewhat 
unctuous  gentleman,  with  excellent  teeth  and  snow-white 
hands,  symmetrical  and  dimpled  like  a  woman's.  He  saw 
the  patient,  questioned  him  slightly,  and  divined,  without 
waiting  for  it,  what  the  answer  should  be ;  he  was  delighted 
with  Rogan,  pleased  with  Price;  but  he  grew  actually 
enthusiastic  over  those  charming  nurses,  Nina  and  Kate. 

"With  such  sisters  of  charity  to  tend  me,  I  'd  consent  to 
pass  my  life  as  an  invalid,"  cried  he. 

Indeed,  to  listen  to  him,  it  would  seem  that,  whether  from 
the  salubrity  of  the  air,  the  peaceful  quietude  of  the  spot, 
the  watchful  kindness  and  attention  of  the  surrounders,  or 
a  certain  general  air,  —  an  actual  atmosphere  of  benevolence 
and  contentment  around,  —  there  was  no  pleasure  of  life 
could  equal  the  delight  of  being  laid  up  at  Kilgobbin. 

"I  have  a  message  for  you  from  my  old  friend  Miss 
O'Shea,"  said  he  to  Kate  the  first  moment  he  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  with  her  alone.  "  It  is  not  necessary  to 
tell  you  that  I  neither  know,  nor  desire  to  know,  its  import. 
Her  words  were  thes^,  — '  Tell  my  godchild  to  forgive  me  if 
she  still  has  any  memory  for  some  very  rude  words  I  once 


412  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

spoke.  Tell  her  that  I  have  been  sorely  punished  for  them 
since,  and  that  till  I  know  I  have  her  pardon  I  have  no 
courage  to  cross  her  doors.'  This  was  my  message,  and  I 
was  to  bring  back  your  answer." 

"Tell  her,"  cried  Kate,  warmly,  "I  have  no  place  in  my 
memory  but  for  the  kindnesses  she  has  bestowed  on  me,  and 
that  I  ask  no  better  boon  from  fortune  than  to  be  allowed  to 
love  her,  and  to  be  worthy  of  her  love." 

"I  will  repeat  every  word  you  have  told  me;  and  I  am 
proud  to  be  bearer  of  such  a  speech.  May  I  presume,  upon 
the  casual  confidence  I  have  thus  acquired,  to  add  one  word 
for  myself;  and  it  is  as  the  doctor  I  would  speak." 

"Speak  freely.     What  is  it?  " 

"It  is  this,  then:  you  young  ladies  keep  your  watches  in 
turn  in  the  sick-room.  The  patient  is  unfit  for  much  excite- 
ment, and,  as  I  dare  not  take  the  liberty  of  imposing  a  line 
of  conduct  on  Mademoiselle  Kostalergi,  I  have  resolved  to 
run  the  hazard  with  you  !  Let  hers  be  the  task  of  entertain- 
ing him;  let  her  be  the  reader  —  and  he  loves  being  read 
to  —  and  the  talker,  and  the  narrator  of  whateyer  goes  on. 
To  you  be  the  part  of  quiet  watchfulness  and  care,  to  bathe 
the  heated  brow  or  the  burning  hand,  to  hold  the  cold  cup 
to  the  parched  lips,  to  adjust  the  pillow,  to  temper  the  light 
and  renew  the  air  of  the  sick-room ;  but  to  speak  seldom,  if 
at  all.     Do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

"Perfectly;  and  you  are  wise  and  acute  in  your  distribu- 
tion of  labor,  — each  of  us  has  her  fitting  station." 

"I  dared  not  have  said  this  much  to  her;  my  doctor's 
instinct  told  me  I  might  be  frank  with  you.'' 

"You  are  safe  in  speaking  to  me,"  said  she,  calmly. 

"Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  that  I  give  these  suggestions 
without  any  concert  with  my  patient.  I  have  not  only 
abstained  from  consulting,  but  —  " 

"Forgive  my  interrupting  you.  Sir  X.  It  was  quite 
unnecessary  to  tell  me  this." 

"You  are  not  displeased  with  me,  dear  lady?  "  said  he,  in 
his  softest  of  accents. 

"No;  but  do  not  say  anything  which  might  make  me 
so." 

The  doctor  bowed  reverentially,  crossed  his  white  hands 


A  DOCTOR.  413 

on  his  waistcoat,  and  looked  like  a  saint  ready  for  mar- 
tyrdom. 

Kate  frankly  held  out  her  hand  in  token  of  perfect  cor- 
diality, and  her  honest  smile  suited  the  action  well. 

"Tell  Miss  Betty  that  our  sick  charge  shall  not  be  neg- 
lected, but  that  we  want  her  here  herself  to  help  us." 

"I  shall  report  your  message  word  for  word,"  said  he,  as 
he  withdrew. 

As  the  doctor  drove  back  to  Dublin,  he  went  over  a  variety 
of  things  in  his  thoughts.  There  were  serious  disturbances 
in  the  provinces:  those  ugly  outrages  which  forerun  long 
winter  nights,  and  make  the  last  days  of  October  dreary  and 
sad-colored.  Disorder  and  lawlessness  were  abroad;  and 
that  want  of  something  remedial  to  be  done,  which,  like  the 
thirst  in  fever,  is  fostered  and  fed  by  partial  indulgence. 
Then  he  had  some  puzzling  cases  in  hospital,  and  one  or  two 
in  private  practice,  which  harassed  him;  for  some  had 
reached  that  critical  stage  where  a  false  move  would  be 
fatal,  and  it  was  far  from  clear  which  path  should  be 
taken.  Then  there  was  that  matter  of  Miss  O'Shea  herself, 
who,  if  her  nephew  were  to  die,  would  most  likely  endow 
that  hospital  in  connection  with  the  Bleeding  Heart,  and  of 
which  he  was  himself  the  founder;  and  that  this  fate  was 
by  no  means  improbable,  Sir  X.  persuaded  himself,  as  he 
counted  over  all  the  different  stages  of  peril  that  stood  be- 
tween him  and  convalescence.  "  We  have  now  the  concus- 
sion, with  reasonable  prospect  of  meningitis ;  then  there  may 
come  on  erysipelas  from  the  scalp  wounds,  and  high  fever, 
with  all  its  dangers ;  next  there  maj^  be  a  low  typhoid  state, 
with  high  nervous  excitement;  and  through  all  these  the 
passing  risks  of  the  wrong  food  or  drink,  the  imprudent 
revelations,  or  the  mistaken  stimulants.  Heigho!  "  said  he, 
at  last;  "we  come  through  storm  and  shipwreck,  forlorn 
hopes,  and  burning  villages,  and  we  succumb  to  ten  drops 
too  much  of  a  dark  brown  liquor,  or  the  improvident  rash- 
ness that  reads  out  a  note  to  us  incautiously! 

"Those  young  ladies  thought  to  mystify  me,"  said  he 
aloud,  after  a  long  revery.  "I  was  not  to  know  which  of 
them  was  in  love  with  the  sick  boy.  I  could  make  nothing 
of  the  Greek,  I  own ;  for,  except  a  half-stealthy  regard  for 


414  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

myself,  she  confessed  to  nothing,  and  the  other  was  nearly 
as  inscrutable.  It  was  only  the  little  warmth  at  last  that 
betrayed  her.  I  hurt  her  pride ;  and  as  she  winced,  I  said, 
'  There  's  the  sore  spot;  there  's  mischief  there! '  How  the 
people  grope  their  way  through  life  who  have  never  studied 
physic  nor  learned  physiology  is  a  puzzle  to  me  !  With  all 
its  aid  and  guidance  I  find  humanity  quite  hard  enough  to 
understand  every  day  I  live." 

Even  in  his  few  hours'  visit,  —  in  which  he  remarked 
everything,  from  the  dress  of  the  man  who  waited  at  dinner, 
to  the  sherry  decanter  with  the  smashed  stopper,  the  weak 
"Gladstone"  that  did  duty  as  claret,  and  the  cotton  lace 
which  Nina  sported  as  "point  d'Alengon,"  and  numberless 
other  shifts,  such  as  people  make  who  like  to  play  false 
money  with  Fortune,  —  all  these  he  saw,  and  he  saw  that  a 
certain  jealous  rivalry  existed  between  the  two  girls;  but 
whether  either  of  them,  or  both,  cared  for  young  O'Shea,  he 
could  not  declare;  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  his  inability 
to  determine  this  weighed  upon  him  with  all  the  sense  of  a 
defeat. 


CHAPTER   LVIII. 


IN   TURKEY. 


Leaving  the  sick  man  to  the  tender  care  of  those  ladies 
whose  division  of  labor  we  have  just  hinted  at,  we  turn 
to  other  interests,  and  to  one  of  our  characters,  who, 
though  to  all  seeming  neglected,  has  not  lapsed  from  our 
memory. 

Joe  Atlee  had  been  despatched  on  a  very  confidential 
mission  by  Lord  Danesbury.  Not  only  was  he  to  repossess 
himself  of  certain  papers  he  had  never  heard  of,  from  a 
man  he  had  never  seen,  but  he  was  also  to  impress  this 
unknown  individual  with  the  immense  sense  of  fidelity  to 
another  who  no  longer  had  any  power  to  reward  him ;  and 
besides  this,  to  persuade  him,  being  a  Greek,  that  the  favor 
of  a  great  ambassador  of  England  was  better  than  roubles 
of  gold  and  vases  of  malachite. 

Modern  history  has  shown  us  what  a  great  aid  to  success 
in  life  is  the  contribution  of  a  "light  heart,"  and  Joe  Atlee 
certainly  brought  this  element  of  victory  along  with  him  on 
his  journey. 

His  instructions  were  assuredly  of  the  roughest.  To  im- 
press Lord  Danesbury  favorably  on  the  score  of  his  acute- 
ness  he  must  not  press  for  details,  seek  for  explanations; 
and,  above  ^  all,  he  must  ask  no  questions.  In  fact,  to 
accomplish  that  victory  which  he  ambitioned  for  his  clever- 
ness, and  on  which  his  Excellency  should  say,  "Atlee  saw 
it  at  once,  Atlee  caught  the  whole  thing  at  a  glance,"  —  Joe 
must  be  satisfied  with  the  least  definite  directions  that  ever 
were  issued,  and  the  most  confused  statement  of  duties  and 
diflSculties  that  ever  puzzled  a  human  intelligence.  Indeed, 
as  he  himself  summed  up  his  instructions  in  his  own  room, 


416  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

they  went  no  further  than  this:  That  there  was  a  Greek, 
who,  with  a  number  of  other  names,  was  occasionally  called 
Speridionides,  —  a  great  scoundrel,  and  with  every  good 
reason  for  not  being  come  at,  —  who  was  to  be  found  some- 
where in  Stamboul,  —  probably  at  the  bazaar  at  nightfall. 
He  was  to  be  bullied  or  bribed  or  wheedled  or  menaced 
to  give  up  some  letters  which  Lord  Danesbury  had  once 
written  to  him,  and  to  pledge  himself  to  complete  secrecy 
as  to  their  contents  ever  after.  From  this  Greek,  whose 
perfect  confidence  Atlee  was  to  obtain,  he  was  to  learn 
whether  Kulbash  Pasha,  Lord  Danesbury 's  sworn  friend 
and  ally,  was  not  lapsing  from  his  English  alliance  and 
inclining  towards  Russian  connections.  To  Kulbash  him- 
self Atlee  had  letters,  accrediting  him  as  the  trusted  and 
confidential  agent  of  Lord  Danesbury ;  and  with  the  Pasha 
Joe  was  instructed  to  treat  with  an  air  and  bearing  of 
unlimited  trustfulness.  He  was  also  to  mention  that  his 
Excellency  was  eager  to  be  back  at  his  old  post  as  ambas- 
sador, that  he  loved  the  country,  the  climate,  his  old  col- 
leagues in  the  Sultan's  service,  and  all  the  interests  and 
questions  that  made  up  their  political  life. 

Last  of  all,  Atlee  was  to  ascertain  every  point  on  which 
any  successor  to  Lord  Danesbury  was  likely  to  be  mistaken, 
and  how  a  misconception  might  be  ingeniously  widened  into 
a  grave  blunder ;  and  by  what  means  such  incidents  should 
be  properly  commented  on  by  the  local  papers,  and  unfavor- 
able comparisons  drawn  between  the  author  of  these  meas- 
ures and ''the  great  and  enlightened  statesman  "  who  had 
so  lately  left  them. 

In  a  word,  Atlee  saw  that  he  was  to  personate  the  char- 
acter of  a  most  unsuspecting,  confiding  young  gentleman, 
who  possessed  a  certain  natural  aptitude  for  affairs  of  impor- 
tance, and  that  amount  of  discretion  such  as  suited  him  to 
be  employed  confidentially;  and  to  perform  this  part  he 
addressed  himself. 

The  Pasha  liked  him  so  much  that  he  invited  him  to  be 
his  guest  while  he  remained  at  Constantinople,  and  soon 
satisfied  that  he  was  a  guileless  youth  fresh  to  the  world 
and  its  ways,  he  talked  very  freely  before  him,  and  affect- 
ing to  discuss  mere  possibilities,   actually  sketched  events 


IN  TURKEY.  417 

and  consequences  which  Atlee  shrewdly  guessed  to  be  all 
within  the  range  of  casualties. 

Lord  Danesbury's  post  at  Constantinople  had  not  been  filled 
up,  except  by  the  appointment  of  a  Charg6-d' Affaires ;  it  being 
one  of  the  approved  modes  of  snubbing  a  government  to  ac- 
credit a  person  of  inferior  rank  to  its  court.  Lord  Danes- 
bury  detested  this  man  with  a  hate  that  only  official  life 
comprehends ;  the  mingled  rancor,  jealousy,  and  malice  sug- 
gested by  a  successor  being  a  combination  only  known  to 
men  who  serve  their  country. 

"  Find  out  what  Brumsey  is  doing ;  he  is  said  to  be'doing 
wrong.  He  knows  nothing  of  Turkey.  Learn  his  blunders, 
and  let  me  know  them." 

This  was  the  easiest  of  all  Atlee's  missions,  for  Brumsey 
was  the  weakest  and  most  transparent  of  all  imbecile  Whigs. 
A  junior  diplomatist  of  small  faculties  and  great  ambitions, 
he  wanted  to  do  something,  not  being  clear  as  to  what,  which 
should  startle  his  chiefs,  and  make  "the  Office "  exclaim : 
"  See  what  Sam  Brumsey  has  been  doing  !  Has  n't  Brumsey 
hit  the  nail  on  the  head  1  Brumsey's  last  despatch  is  the 
finest  state  paper  since  the  days  of  Canning !  "  Now  no  one 
knew  the  short  range  of  this  man's  intellectual  tether  better 
than  Lord  Danesbury,  —  since  Brumsey  had  been  his  own 
private  secretary  once,  and  the  two  men  hated  each  other  as 
only  a  haughty  superior  and  a  craven  dependant  know  how 
to  hate. 

The  old  ambassador  was  right.  Russian  craft  had  dug 
many  a  pitfall  for  the  English  diplomatist,  and  Brumsey  had 
fallen  into  every  one  of  them.  Acting  on  secret  information, 
—  all  ingeniously  prepared  to  entrap  him, — Brumsey  had 
discovered  a  secret  demand  made  by  Russia  to  enable  one  of 
the  Imperial  family  to  make  the  tour  of  the  Black  Sea  with 
a  ship-of-war.  Though  it  might  be  matter  of  controversy 
whether  Turkey  herself  could,  without  the  assent  of  the 
other  Powers  to  the  Treaty  of  Paris,  give  her  permission, 
Brumsey  was  too  elated  by  his  discovery  to  hesitate  about 
this,  but  at  once  communicated  to  the  Grand  Vizier  a 
formal  declaration  of  the  displeasure  with  which  England 
would  witness  such  an  infraction  of  a  solemn  engage- 
ment. 

27 


418  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

As  no  such  project  had  ever  been  entertained,  no  such 
demand  ever  made,  Kulbash  Pasha  not  only  laughed  heartily 
at  the  mock  thunder  of  the  Englishman,  but  at  the  energy 
with  which  a  small  official  always  opens  fire,  and  in  the  jocu- 
larity of  his  Turkish  nature,  —  for  they  are  jocular,  these 
children  of  the  Koran,  —  he  told  the  whole  incident  to 
Atlee. 

"Your  old  master,  Mr.  Atlee,"  said  he,  "would  scarcely 
have  read  us  so  sharp  a  lesson  as  that;  but,"  he  added,  "  we 
always  hear  stronger  language  from  the  man  who  couldn't 
station  a  gunboat  at  Pera  than  from  the  ambassador  who 
could  call  up  the  Mediterranean  squadron  from  Malta." 

If  Atlee's  first  letter  to  Lord  Danesbury  admitted  of  a 
certain  disappointment  as  regarded  Speridionides,  it  made 
ample  compensation  by  the  keen  sketch  it  conveyed  of 
how  matters  stood  at  the  Porte,  the  uncertain  fate  of  Kul- 
bash Pasha's  policy,  and  the  scarcely  credible  blunder  of 
Brumsey. 

To  tell  the  English  ambassador  how  much  he  was  regretted 
and  how  much  needed,  how  the  partisans  of  England  felt 
themselves  deserted  and  abandoned  by  his  withdrawal,  and 
how  gravely  the  best  interests  of  Turkey  itself  were  compro- 
mised for  want  of  that  statesmanlike  intelligence  that  had  up 
to  this  guided  the  counsels  of  the  Divan,  —  all  these  formed 
only  a  part  of  Atlee's  task ;  for  he  wrote  letters  and  leaders, 
in  this  sense,  to  all  the  great  journals  of  London,  Paris,  and 
Vienna  :  so  that  when  the  "  Times  "  and  the  "  Post"  asked  the 
English  people  whether  they  were  satisfied  that  the  benefit 
of  the  Crimean  war  should  be  frittered  away  by  an  incompe- 
tent youth  in  the  position  of  a  man  of  high  ability,  the 
"Debats"  commented  on  the  want  of  support  France  suf- 
fered at  the  Porte  by  the  inferior  agency  of  England,  and 
the  "  Neue  Presse"  of  Vienna  more  openly  declared  that  if 
England  had  determined  to  annex  Turkey  and  govern  it 
as  a  Crown  colony,  it  would  have  been  at  least  courtesy  to 
have  informed  her  co-signatories  of  the  fact. 

At  the  same  time  an  Irish  paper  in  the  national  interest 
quietly  desired  to  be  informed  how  was  it  that  the  man  who 
made  such  a  mull  of  Ireland  could  be  so  much  needed  in 
Turkey,  aided  by  a  well-known  fellow-citizen,   more  cele- 


IN  TURKEY.  419 

brated  for  smashing  lamps  and  wringing  off  knockers  than 
for  administering  the  rights  of  a  colony ;  and  by  which  of 
his  services,  ballad-writing  or  beating  the  police,  he  had 
gained  the  favor  of  the  present  Cabinet.  "  In  fact,"  con- 
cluded the  writer,  "if  we  hear  more  of  this  appointment, 
we  promise  our  readers  some  biographical  memoirs  of  the 
respected  individual,  which  may  serve  to  show  the  rising 
youth  of  Ireland  by  what  gifts  success  in  life  is  most  surely 
achieved,  as  well  as  what  peculiar  accomplishments  find 
most  merit  with  the  grave-minded  men  who  rule  us." 

A  Cork  paper  announced  on  the  same  day,  amongst  the 
promotions,  that  Joseph  Atlee  had  been  made  C.  B.,  and 
mildly  inquired  if  the  honor  were  bestowed  for  that  paper 
on  Ireland  in  the  last  "  Quarterly,"  and  dryly  wound  up  by 
saying,  "We  are  not  selfish,  whatever  people  may  say  of 
us.  Our  friends  on  the  Bosphorus  shall  have  the  noble  lord 
cheap  !  Let  his  Excellency  only  assure  us  that  he  will  return 
with  his  whole  staff,  and  not  leave  us  Mr.  Cecil  Walpole,  or 
any  other  like  incapacity,  behind  him,  as  a  director  of  the 
Poor  Law  Board,  or  inspector-general  of  jails,  or  deputy- 
assistant-secretary  anywhere,  and  we  assent  freely  to  the 
change  that  sends  this  man  to  the  East  and  leaves  us  here  to 
flounder  on  with  such  aids  to  our  mistakes  as  a  Liberal 
Government  can  safely  afford  to  spare  us." 

A  paragraph  in  another  part  of  the  same  paper,  which 
asked  if  the  Joseph  Atlee  who,  it  was  rumored,  was  to  go 
out  as  Governor  to  Labuan,  could  be  this  man,  had,  it  is 
needless  to  say,  been  written  by  himself. 

The  "  Levant  Herald"  contented  itself  with  an  authorized 
contradiction  to  the  report  that  Sir  Joseph  Atlee  —  the  Sir 
was  an  ingenious  blunder  —  had  conformed  to  Islamism,  and 
was  in  treaty  for  the  palace  of  Tashkir  Bey  at  Therapia. 

With  a  neatness  and  tact  all  his  own,  Atlee  narrated 
Brumsey's  blunder  in  a  tone  so  simple  and  almost  deferential 
that  Lord  Danesbury  could  show  the  letter  to  any  of  his 
colleagues.  The  whole  spirit  of  the  document  was  regret 
that  a  very  well-intentioned  gentleman  of  good  connections 
and  irreproachable  morals  should  be  an  ass !  Not  that  he 
employed  the  insufferable  designation. 

The  Cabinet  at  home  were  on  thorns  lest  the  press  —  the 


420  LORD  KILGOBBIN.  « 

vile  Tory  organs  —  should  get  wind  of  the  case,  and  cap  the 
blundering  government  of  Ireland  with  the  almost  equally 
gross  mistake  in  diplomacy. 

"  We  shall  have  the  '  Standard'  at  us,"  said  the  Premier. 

''Far  worse,"  replied  the  Foreign  Secretary.  ''I  shall 
have  Brunow  here  in  a  white  passion  to  demand  an  apology 
and  the  recall  of  our  man  at  Constantinople." 

To  accuse  a  well-known  housebreaker  of  a  burglary  that 
he  had  not  committed,  nor  had  any  immediate  thought  of 
committing,  is  the  very  luckiest  stroke  of  fortune  that  could 
befall  him.  He  comes  out  not  alone  innocent,  but  injured. 
The  persecutions  by  which  bad  men  have  assailed  him  for 
years  have  at  last  their  illustration,  and  the  calumniated 
saint  walks  forth  into  the  world,  his  head  high  and  his  port 
erect,  even  though  a  crowbar  should  peep  out  from  his  coat- 
pocket,  and  the  jingle  of  false  keys  go  with  him  as  he 
went. 

Far  too  astute  to  make  the  scandal  public  by  the  news- 
papers, Atlee  only  hinted  to  his  chief  the  danger  that  might 
ensue  if  the  secret  leaked  out.  He  well  knew  that  a  press 
scandal  is  a  nine-day  fever,  but  a  menaced  publicity  is  a 
chronic  malady  that  may  go  on  for  years. 

The  last  lines  of  his  letter  were  :  "I  have  made  a  curious 
and  interesting  acquaintance,  —  a  certain  Stephanotis  Bey, 
governor  of  Scutari  in  Albania,  a  very  venerable  old  fellow, 
who  was  never  at  Constantinople  till  now.  The  Pasha  tells 
me  in  confidence  that  he  is  enormously  wealthy.  His  for- 
tune was  made  by  brigandage  in  Greece,  from  which  he  re- 
tired a  few  years  ago,  shocked  by  the  sudden  death  of  his 
brother,  who  was  decapitated  at  Corinth  with  five  others. 
The  Bey  is  a  nice,  gentle-mannered,  simple-hearted  old  man, 
kind  to  the  poor,  and  eminently  hospitable.  He  has  invited 
me  down  to  Prevesa  for  the  pig-shooting.  If  I  have  your 
permission  to  accept  the  invitation,  I  shall  make  a  rapid  visit 
to  Athens,  and  make  one  more  effort  to  discover  Speridioni- 
des.  Might  I  ask  the  favor  of  an  answer  by  telegraph? 
So  many  documents  and  archives  were  stolen  here  at  the 
time  of  the  fire  of  the  Embassy,  that,  by  a  timely  measure 
of  discredit,  we  can  impair  the  value  of  all  papers  whatever, 
and  I  have  already  a  mass  of  false  despatches,  notes,  and 


IN  TURKEY.  421 

telegrams  ready  for  publication,  and  subsequent  denial,  if 
you  advise  it.  In  one  of  these  I  have  imitated  Walpole's 
style  so  well  that  I  scarcely  think  he  will  read  it  without 
misgivings.  With  so  much  '  bad  bank  paper'  in  circulation, 
Speridionides  is  not  likely  to  set  a  high  price  on  his  own 
scrip.' " 


CHAPTER  LIX. 


A    LETTER-BAG. 


Lord  Danesbury  read  Atlee's  letter  with  an  enjoyment  not 
unlike  the  feeling  an  old  sportsman  experiences  in  discov- 
ering that  his  cover  hack  —  an  animal  not  worth  twenty- 
pounds  —  was  a  capital  fencer ;  that  a  beast  only  destined 
to  the  commonest  of  uses  should  actually  have  qualities  that 
recalled  the  steeple-chaser,  —  that  the  scrubby  little  creature 
with  the  thin  neck  and  the  shabby  quarters  should  have  a 
turn  of  speed  and  a  "  big  jump "  in  him,  was  something 
scarcely  credible  and  highly  interesting. 

Now  political  life  has  its  handicaps  like  the  turf,  and 
that  old  jockey  of  many  Cabinets  began  seriously  to  think 
whether  he  might  not  lay  a  little  money  on  that  dark  horse 
Joe  Atlee,  and  make  something  out  of  him  before  he  was 
better  known  in  "  the  ring." 

He  was  smarting,  besides,  under  the  annoyances  of  that 
half-clever  fellow  Walpole,  when  Atlee's  letter  reached  him ; 
and  though  the  unlucky  Cecil  had  taken  ill  and  kept  his 
room  ever  since  his  arrival,  his  Excellency  had  never  for- 
given him,  nor  by  a  word  or  sign  showed  any  disposition 
to  restore  him  to  favor. 

That  he  was  himself  overwhelmed  by  a  correspondence, 
and  left  to  deal  with  it  almost  alone,  scarcely  contributed 
to  reconcile  him  to  a  youth  more  smarting,  as  he  deemed 
it,  under  a  recent  defeat  than  really  ill ;  and  he  pointed  to 
the  mass  of  papers  which  now  littered  his  breakfast-table, 
and  querulously  asked  his  niece  if  that  brilliant  young  gen- 
tleman upstairs  could  be  induced  to  postpone  his  sorrows 
and  copy  a  despatch. 

"If  it  be  not  something  very  difficult  or  requiring  very 
uncommon  care,  perhaps  I  could  do  it  myself." 


A  LETTER-BAG.  423 

"So  you  could,  Maude,  but  I  want  you  too, — I  shall 
want  you  to  copy  out  parts  of  Atlee's  last  letter,  which 
I  wish  to  place  before  the  Foreign  Office  Secretary.  He 
ought  to  see  what  his  protege  Brumsey  is  making  of  it. 
These  are  the  idiots  who  get  us  into  foreign  wars,  or  those 
apologetic  movements  in  diplomacy  which  are  as  bad  as 
lost  battles.  What  a  contrast  to  Atlee  —  a  rare  clever 
dog,  Atlee  —  and  so  awake,  not  only  to  one,  but  to  every 
contingency  of  a  case.  1  like  that  fellow  —  I  like  a  fellow 
that  stops  all  the  earths!  Your  half -clever  ones  never  do 
that ;  they  only  do  enough  to  prolong  the  race ;  they  don't 
win  it.  That  bright  relative  of  ours  —  Cecil  —  is  one  of 
those.  Give  Atlee  Walpole's  chances,  and  where  would 
he  be?" 

A  very  faint  color  tinged  her  cheek  as  she  listened,  but 
did  not  speak. 

"That's  the  real  way  to  put  it,"  continued  he,  more 
warmly.  "  Say  to  Atlee,  '  You  shall  enter  public  life  with- 
out any  pressing  need  to  take  office  for  a  livelihood ;  you 
shall  have  friends  able  to  push  you  with  one  party,  and 
relations  and  connections  with  the  opposition,  to  save  you 
from  unnecessary  cavil  or  question ;  you  shall  be  well  in- 
troduced socially,  and  have  a  seat  in  the  House  before  — ' 
What's  his  age?   five-and-twenty? " 

"  I  should  say  about  three-and-twenty,  my  Lord;  but  it 
is  a  mere  guess." 

"  Three-and-twenty  is  he?  I  suspect  you  are  right,  —  he 
can't  be  more.  But  what  a  deal  the  fellow  has  crammed 
for  that  time,  —  plenty  of  rubbish,  no  doubt :  old  drama- 
tists and  such  like :  but  he  is  well  up  in  his  treaties ;  and 
there 's  not  a  speaker  of  eminence  in  the  House  that  he 
cannot  make  contradict  himself  out  of  Hansard." 

"Has  he  any  fortune?"  sighed  she,  so  lazily  that  it 
scarcely  sounded  as  a  question. 

"  I  suppose  not." 

"Nor  any  family?" 

"  Brothers  and  sisters  he  may  have,  — indeed,  he  is  sure 
to  have ;  but  if  you  mean  connections,  —  belonging  to  per- 
sons of  admitted  station,  —  of  course  he  has  not.  The 
name  alone  might  show  it." 


424  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

Another  little  sigh^  fainter  than  before,  followed,  and  all 
was  still. 

"  Five  years  hence,  if  even  so  much,  the  plebeian  name  and 
the  unknown  stock  will  be  in  his  favor;  but  we  have  to 
wade  through  a  few  dreary  measures  before  that.  I  wish  he 
was  in  the  House,  —  he  ought  to  be  in  the  House." 

"  Is  there  a  vacancy?  "  said  slie,  lazily. 

''  Two.     There  is  Cradford,  and  there  is  that  Scotch  place, 

—  the  something-Burg,  which,  of  course,  one  of  their  own 
people  will  insist  on." 

''Couldn't  he  have  Cradford?"  asked  she,  with  a  very 
slight  animation. 

"  He  might  —  at  least  if  Brand  knew  him,  he  'd  see  he  was 
the  man  they  wanted.  I  almost  think  I  '11  write  a  line  to 
Brand,  and  send  him  some  extracts  of  the  last  letter.    I  will, 

—  here  goes." 

"  If  you '11  tell  me  —  " 

"  Dear  B,,  —  Read  the  enclosed,  and  say  have!  you  anybody  better 
than  the  writer  for  your  ancient  borough  of  Cradford  ?  The  fellow 
can  talk,  and  I  am  sure  he  can  speak  as  well  as  he  writes.  He  is 
well  up  in  all  Irish  press  iniquities.  Better  than  all,  he  has  neither 
prejudices  nor  principles,  nor,  as  I  believe,  a  five-pound  note  in  the 
world.  He  is  now  in  Greece,  but  I  '11  have  him  over  by  telegraph 
if  you  give  me  encouragement. 

"Tell  Tycross  at  F.  O.  to  send  Walpole  to  Guatemala,  and  order 
him  to  his  post  at  once.  G.  will  have  told  you  that  I  shall  not  go 
back  to  Ireland.  The  blunder  of  my  ever  seeing  it  was  the  black- 
est in  the  life  of  yours, 

"Danesbury.'* 

The  first  letter  his  Lordship  opened  gave  him  very  little 
time  or  inclination  to  bestow  more  thought  on  Atlee.  It  was 
from  the  head  of  the  Cabinet,  and  in  the  coldest  tone  imagi- 
nable. The  writer  directed  his  attention  to  what  had  occurred 
in  the  House  the  night  before,  and  how  impossible  it  was  for 
any  Government  to  depend  on  colleagues  whose  administra- 
tion had  been  so  palpably  blundering  and  unwise. 

"  Conciliation  can  only  succeed  by  the  good  faith  it  inspires. 
Once  that  it  leaks  out  you  are  more  eager  to  achieve  a  gain  than 
confer  a  benefit,  you  cease  to  conciliate,  and  you  only  cajole.     Now, 


A  LETTER-BAG.  425 

your  Lordship  might  have  apprehended  that,  in  this  especial  game, 
the  Popish  priest  is  your  master  and  mine  —  not  to  add  that  he  gives 
an  undivided  attention  to  a  subject  which  we  have  to  treat  as  one 
amongst  many,  and  with  the  relations  and  bearings  which  attach  it 
to  other  questions  of  state. 

"  That  you  cannot,  with  advantage  to  the  Crown,  or,  indeed,  to 
your  own  dignity,  continue  to  hold  your  present  office,  is  clear 
enough ;  and  the  only  question  now  is  in  what  way,  consistent  with 
the  safety  of  the  Administration,  and  respect  for  your  Lordship's 
high  character,  the  relinquishment  had  best  be  made.  The  debate 
has  been,  on  Gregory's  motion,  adjourned.  It  will  be  continued  on 
Tuesday,  and  my  colleagues  opine  that  if  your  resignation  was  in 
their  hands  before  that  day,  certain  leaders  of  the  Opposition  would 
consent  to  withdraw  their  motion.  I  am  not  wholly  agreed  with 
the  other  members  of  the  Cabinet  on  this  point ;  but,  without  em- 
barrassing you  by  the  reasons  which  sway  my  judgment,  I  will 
simply  place  the  matter  before  you  for  your  own  consideration,  per- 
fectly assured,  as  I  am,  that  your  decision  will  be  come  to  only 
on  consideration  of  what  you  deem  best  for  the  interests  of  the 
country. 

"  My  colleague  at  the  Foreign  Office  will  write  to-day  or  to-morrow 
with  reference  to  your  former  post,  and  I  only  allude  to  it  now  to 
say  the  unmixed  satisfaction  it  would  give  the  Cabinet  to  find  that 
the  greatest  interests  of  Eastern  Europe  were  once  more  in  the  keep- 
ing of  the  ablest  diplomatist  of  the  age,  and  one  of  the  most  far- 
sighted  of  modern  statesmen. 

"  A  motion  for  the  abolition  of  the  Irish  viceroyalty  is  now  on  the 
notice  paper,  and  it  will  be  matter  for  consideration  whether  we 
may  not  make  it  an  open  question  in  the  Cabinet.  Perhaps  your 
Lordship  would  favor  me  with  such  opinions  on  the  subject  as  your 
experiences  suggest. 

"  The  extra  session  has  wearied  out  every  one,  and  we  can  with 
difficulty  make  a  house.     Yours  sincerely, 

«G.   Annivey." 

The  next  he  opened  was  briefer.     It  ran  thus  :  — 

"  Dear  Danrsbury,  —  You  must  go  back  at  once  to  Turkey. 
That  inscrutable  idiot  Brumsey  has  discovered  another  mare's  nest, 
and  we  are  lucky  if  Gortchakoff  does  not  call  upon  us  for  public 
apology.  Brunow  is  outrageous,  and  demands  B.'s  recall.  I  sent 
off  the  despatch  while  he  was  with  me.  Leflo  Pasha  is  very  ill,  they 
say  dying,  so  that  you  must  haste  back  to  your  old  friend  (query : 
which  is  he?)  Kulbash,  if  it  be  not  too  late,  as  Apponyi  thinks. 

"  Yours,  G. 


426  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

''  P.  S.  —  Take  none  of  your  Irish  suite  with  you  to  the  East. 
The  papers  are  sure  to  note  the  names,  and  attacls  you  if  you  should. 
They  shall  be  cared  for  somehow,  if  there  be  any  who  interest 
you. 

"  You  have  seen  that  the  House  was  not  over  civil  to  you  on 
Saturday  night,  though  A.  thinks  you  got  off  well." 

''  Resign !  "  cried  he,  aloud,  as  he  dashed  the  letter  on  the 
table.  *'  I  think  I  would  resign  !  If  they  asked  what  would 
tempt  me  to  go  back  there,  I  should  be  sorely  puzzled  to 
name  it.  No  ;  not  the  blue  ribbon  itself  would  induce  me  to 
face  that  chaos  once  more.  As  to  the  hint  about  my  Irish 
staff,  it  was  quite  unnecessary.  Not  very  likely,  Maude,  we 
should  take  Walpole  to  finish  in  the  Bosphorus  what  he  has 
begun  on  the  Liffey." 

He  turned  hastily  to  the  "Times,"  and  threw  his  eyes 
over  the  summary  of  the  debate.  It  was  acrimonious  and 
sneery.  The  Opposition  leaders,  with  accustomed  smooth- 
ness, had  made  it  appear  that  the  Viceroy's  Eastern  expe- 
rience had  misled  him,  and  that  he  thought  "  Tipperary  was 
a  Pashalick  !  "  Imbued  with  notions  of  wholesale  measures 
of  government,  so  applicable  to  Turkey,  it  was  easy  to  see 
how  the  errors  had  affected  his  Irish  policy.  "  There  was," 
said  the  speaker,  "  somebody  to  be  conciliated  in  Ireland, 
and  some  one  to  be  hanged  ;  and  what  more  natural  than  that 
he  should  forget  which,  or  that  he  should  make  the  mistake 
of  keeping  all  the  flattery  for  the  rebel,  and  the  rope  for  the 
priest."  The  neatness  of  the  illustration  took  with  the 
House,  and  the  speaker  was  interrupted  by  "  much  laughter." 
And  then  he  went  on  to  say  that,  "  as  with  those  well-known 
ointments  or  medicines  whose  specific  virtues  lay  in  the  enor- 
mous costliness  of  some  of  the  constituents,  so  it  must  give 
unspeakable  value  to  the  efficacy  of  those  healing  measures 
for  Ireland,  to  know  that  the  whole  British  Constitution  was 
boiled  down  to  make  one  of  them ;  and  every  right  and 
liberty  brayed  in  the  mortar  to  furnish  even  one  dose  of  this 
precious  elixir."     And  then  there  was  "  laughter  "  again. 

"  He  ought  to  be  more  merciful  to  charlatans.  Dogs  do 
not  eat  dogs,"  muttered  his  Lordship  to  himself,  and  then 
asked  his  niece  to  send  Walpole  to  him. 

It  was  some  time  before  Walpole  appeared,  and  when  he 


A  LETTER-BAG.  427 

did  it  was  with  such  a  wasted  look  and  careworn  aspect  as 
might  have  pleaded  in  his  favor. 

"  Maude  told  me  you  wished  to  see  me,  my  Lord,"  said  he, 
half  diffidently. 

*'Did  I?  eh?  Did  I  say  so?  I  forget  all  about  it. 
What  could  it  be?  Let  us  see.  Was  it  this  stupid  row 
they  were  making  in  the  House?  Have  you  read  the 
debate?" 

*'  No,  my  Lord  ;  not  looked  at  a  paper." 

*'0f  course  not;  you  have  been  too  ill,  too  weak.  Have 
you  seen  a  doctor  ?  " 

*'  I  don't  care  to  see  a  doctor ;  they  all  say  the  same  thing. 
I  onlj'  need  rest  and  quiet." 

"Only  that!  Why,  they  are  the  two  things  nobody  can 
get.  Power  cannot  have  them,  nor  money  buy  them.  The 
retired  tradesman,  —  I  beg  his  pardon,  the  cheesemonger,  — 
he  is  always  a  cheesemonger  now  who  represents  vulgarity 
and  bank  stock,  —  he  may  have  his  rest  and  quiet ;  but  a 
Minister  must  not  dream  of  such  a  luxury,  nor  any  one  who 
serves  a  Minister.  Where  's  the  quiet  to  come  from,  I  ask 
you,  after  such  a  tirade  of  abuse  as  that?  "  And  he  pointed 
to  the  ''  Times."  "  There  's  '  Punch,'  too,  with  a  picture  of 
me  measuring  out  '  Danesbury's  drops  to  cure  loyalty.* 
That  slim  youth  handing  the  spoon  is  meant  for  you^ 
Walpole." 

"  Perhaps  so,  my  Lord,"  said  he,  coldly. 

*'They  haven't  given  you  too  much  leg,  Cecil,"  said  the 
other,  laughing;  but  Cecil  scarcely  relished  the  joke. 

"  I  say,  Piccadilly  is  scarcely  the  place  for  a  man  after 
that;  —  I  mean,  of  course,  for  a  while,"  continued  he. 
"  These  things  are  not  eternal;  they  have  their  day.  They 
had  me  last  week  travelling  in  Ireland  on  a  camel ;  and  I 
was  made  to  say,  '  That  the  air  of  the  desert  always  did  me 
good!  '     Poor  fun,  was  it  not?" 

''  Very  poor  fun,  indeed !  " 

"And  you  were  the  boy  preparing  my  chibouque;  and,  I 
must  say,  devilish  like." 

"  I  did  not  see  it,  my  Lord." 

"That's  the  best  way.  Don't  look  at  the  caricatures; 
don't  read  the  '  Saturday  Review ; '  never  know  there  is  any- 


428  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

thing  wrong  with  you ;  nor,  if  you  can,  that  anything  dis- 
agrees with  you." 

"  I  should  like  the  last  delusion  best  of  all,"  said  he. 

"Who  would  not?"  cried  the  old  Lord.  "The  way  I 
used  to  eat  potted  prawns  at  Eton,  and  peach  jam  after 
them,  and  iced  guavas,  and  never  felt  better !  And  now 
everything  gives  acidity." 

"Just  because  our  fathers  and  grandfathers  would  have 
those  potted  prawns  you  spoke  of." 

"No,  no;  you  are  all  wrong.  It's  the  new  race, — it's 
the  new  generation.  They  don't  bear  reverses.  Whenever 
the  world  goes  wrong  with  them,  they  talk  as  they  feel,  they 
lose  appetite,  and  they  fall  down  in  a  state  like  your  —  a  — 
Walpole  —  like  your  own  !  " 

"  Well,  my  Lord,  I  don't  think  I  could  be  called  captious 
for  saying  that  the  world  has  not  gone  over  well  with 
me." 

"Ah — hum.  You  mean  —  no  matter — I  suppose  the 
luckiest  hand  is  not  all  trumps !  The  thing  is  to  score  the 
trick  ;  that 's  the  point,  Walpole,  to  score  the  trick !  " 

"  Up  to  this,  T  have  not  been  so  fortunate." 

"Well,  who  knows  what's  coming!  I  have  just  asked 
the  Foreign  Office  people  to  give  you  Guatemala ;  not  a  bad 
thing,  as  times  go." 

"  Why,  my  Lord,  it's  banishment  and  barbarism  together. 
The  pay  is  miserable!  It  is  far  away,  and  it  is  not  Pall 
Mall  or  the  Rue  Rivoli." 

"No,  not  that.  There  is  twelve  hundred  for  salary,  and 
something  for  a  house,  and  something  more  for  a  secretary 
that  you  don't  keep,  and  an  office  that  you  need  not  have. 
In  fact,  it  makes  more  than  two  thousand  ;  and  for  a  single 
man  in  a  place  where  he  cannot  be  extravagant,  it  will 
suffice." 

"Yes,  my  Lord;  but  I  was  presumptuous  enough  to 
imagine  a  condition  in  which  I  should  not  be  a  single  man, 
and  I  speculated  on  the  possibility  that  another  might 
venture  to  share  even  poverty  as  my  companion." 

"  A  woman  would  n't  go  there,  — at  least,  she  ought  not. 
It 's  all  bush  life,  or  something  like  it.  Why  should  a 
woman  bear  that,  or  a  man  ask  her  to  do  so?" 


A  LETTER-BAG.  429 

"  You  seem  to  forget,  my  Lord,  that  affections  may  be 
engaged,  and  pledges  interchanged." 

"  Get  a  bill  of  indemnity,  therefore,  to  release  you ;  better 
that  than  wait  for  yellow  fever  to  do  it." 

''I  confess  that  your  Lordship's  words  give  me  great 
discouragement;  and  if  I  could  possibly  believe  that  Lady 
Maude  was  of  your  mind  —  " 

"Maude!  Maude!  why,  you  never  imagined  that  Lady 
Maude  would  leave  comfort  and  civilization  for  this  bush 
life,  with  its  rancheros  and  rattlesnakes.  I  confess,"  said 
he,  with  a  bitter  laugh,  "  I  did  not  think  either  of  you  were 
bent  on  being  Paul  or  Virginia." 

"  Have  I  your  Lordship's  permission  to  ask  her  own 
judgment  in  the  matter ;  I  mean  with  the  assurance  of  its 
not  being  biassed  by  you  ?  " 

"Freely,  most  freely  do  I  give  it.  She  is  not  the  girl  I 
believe  her  if  she  leaves  you  long  in  doubt.  But  I  prejudge 
nothing,  and  I  influence  nothing." 

"Am  1  to  conclude,  my  Lord,  that  I  am  sure  of  this 
appointment?" 

"  I  almost  believe  I  can  say  you  are.  I  have  asked  for 
a  reply  by  telegraph,  and  I  shall  probably  have  one  to- 
morrow." 

' '  You  seemed  to  have  acted  under  the  conviction  that  I 
should  be  glad  to  get  this  place." 

"Yes,  such  was  my  conclusion.  After  that  'fiasco'  in 
Ireland  you  must  go  somewhere,  for  a  time  at  least,  out  of 
the  way.  Now,  as  a  man  cannot  die  for  half-a-dozen  years 
and  come  back  to  life  when  people  have  forgotten  his 
unpopularity,  the  next  best  thing  is  South  America.  Bo- 
gota and  the  Argentine  Republic  have  whitewashed  many  a 
reputation." 

"  I  will  remember  your  Lordship's  wise  words." 

"  Do  so,"  said  my  Lord,  curtly,  for  he  felt  offended  at  the 
flippant  tone  in  which  the  other  spoke.  "I  don't  mean  to 
say  that  I  'd  send  the  writer  of  that  letter  yonder  to  Yucatan 
or  Costa  Rica." 

"  Who  may  the  gifted  writer  be,  my  Lord?  " 

"  Atlee,  Joe  Atlee ;  the  fellow  you  sent  over  here." 

"  Indeed !  "  was  all  that  Walpole  could  utter. 


480  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  Just  take  it  to  your  room  and  read  it  over.  You  will 
be  astonished  at  the  thing.  The  fellow  has  got  to  know  the 
bearings  of  a  whole  set  of  new  questions,  and  how  he  under- 
stands the  men  he  has  got  to  deal  with !  " 

"  With  your  leave  I  will  do  so,"  said  he,  as  he  took  the 
letter  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER   LX. 


A    DEFEAT. 


Cecil  Walpole's  Italian  experiences  had  supplied  him  with 
an  Italian  proverb  which  says,  '^  Tutto  il  mal  non  vien  per 
nuocere,"  or,  in  other  words,  that  no  evil  comes  unmixed 
with  good ;  and  there  is  a  marvellous  amount  of  wisdom  in 
the  adage. 

That  there  is  a  deep  philosophy,  too,  in  showing  how 
carefully  we  should  sift  misfortune  to  the  dregs,  and  ascertain 
what  of  benefit  we  might  rescue  from  the  dross,  is  not  to  be 
denied ;  and  the  more  we  reflect  on  it,  the  more  should  we 
see  that  the  germ  of  all  real  consolation  is  intimately  bound 
up  in  this  reservation. 

No  sooner,  then,  did  Walpole,  in  novelist  phrase,  "  realize 
the  fact "  that  he  was  to  go  to  Guatemala,  than  he  set  very 
practically  to  inquire  what  advantages,  if  any,  could  be 
squeezed  out  of  this  unpromising  incident. 

The  creditors  —  and  he  had  some  —  would  not  like  it ! 
The  dreary  process  of  dunning  a  man  across  half  the  globe, 
the  hopelessness  of  appeals  that  took  two  months  to  come  to 
hand,  and  the  inefficacy  of  threats  that  were  wafted  over 
miles  of  ocean !  And  certainly  he  smiled  as  he  thought  of 
these,  and  rather  maliciously  bethought  him  of  the  truculent 
importunity  that  menaced  him  with  some  form  of  publicity 
in  the  more  insolent  appeal  to  some  Minister  at  home.  "  Our 
tailor  will  moderate  his  language,  our  jeweller  will  appreci- 
ate the  merits  of  polite  letter-writing,"  thought  he.  "A  few 
parallels  of  latitude  become  a  great  schoolmaster." 

But  there  were  greater  advantages  even  than  these.  This 
banishment  —  for  it  was  nothing  else  —  could  not  by  any 
possibility  be  persisted  in,  and  if  Lady  Maude  should  con- 
sent to  accompany  him,  would  be  very  short-lived. 


432  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"The  women  will  take  it  up,"  said  he,  "and  with  that 
charming  clanship  that  distinguishes  them,  will  lead  the 
Foreign  Secretary  a  life  of  misery,  till  he  gives  us  some- 
thing better.  '  Maude  says  the  thermometer  has  never  been 
lower  than  132  deg.,  and  that  there  is  no  shade.  The  nights 
have  no  breeze,  and  are  rather  hotter  than  the  days.  She 
objects  seriously  to  be  waited  on  by  people  in  feathers,  and 
very  few  of  them,  and  she  remonstrates  against  alligators  in 
the  kitchen-garden,  and  wild  cats  coming  after  the  canaries 
in  the  drawing-room.' 

"I  hear  the  catalogue  of  misfortunes,  which  begins  with 
nothing  to  eat,  plus  the  terror  of  being  eaten.  I  recognize 
the  lament  over  lost  civilization  and  a  wasted  life,  and  I  see 
Downing  Street  besieged  with  ladies  in  deputations,  declaring 
that  they  care  nothing  for  party  or  politics,  but  a  great  deal 
for  the  life  of  a  dear  young  creature  who  is  to  be  sacrificed 
to  appease  some  people  belonging  to  the  existing  Ministry. 
I  think  1  know  how  beautifully  illogical  they  will  be,  but 
how  necessarily  successful ;  and  now  for  Maude  herself." 

Of  Lady  Maude  Bickerstaffe  Walpole  had  seen  next  to 
nothing  since  his  return;  his  own  ill  health  had  confined 
him  to  his  room,  and  her  inquiries  after  him  had  been  cold 
and  formal ;  and  though  be  wrote  a  tender  little  note  and 
asked  for  books,  slyly  hinting  what  measure  of  bliss  a  five 
minutes'  visit  would  confer  on  him,  the  books  he  begged  for 
were  sent,  but  not  a  line  of  answer  accompanied  them.  On 
the  whole,  he  did  not  dislike  this  little  show  of  resentment. 
What  he  really  dreaded  was  indifference.  So  long  as  a 
woman  is  piqued  with  you,  something  can  always  be  done ; 
it  is  only  when  she  becomes  careless  and  unmindful  of  what 
you  do  or  say  or  look  or  think  that  the  game  looks  hopeless. 
Therefore  it  was  that  he  regarded  this  demonstration  of 
anger  as  rather  favorable  than  otherwise.    ' 

"  Atlee  has  told  her  of  the  Greek!  Atlee  has  stirred  up 
her  jealousy  of  the  Titian  girl.  Atlee  has  drawn  a  long 
indictment  against  me,  and  the  fellow  has  done  me  good 
service  in  giving  me  something  to  plead  to.  Let  me  have 
a  charge  to  meet,  and  I  have  no  misgivings.  What  really 
unmans  me  is  the  distrust  that  will  not  even  utter  an  allega- 
tion, and  the  indifference  that  does  not  want  disproof." 


"A   DEFEAT."  433 

He  learned  that  her  Ladyship  was  in  the  garden,  and  he 
hastened  down  to  meet  her.  In  his  own  small  way  Walpole 
was  a  clever  tactician ;  and  he  counted  much  on  the  ardor 
with  which  he  should  open  his  case,  and  the  amount  of  im- 
petuosity that  would  give  her  very  little  time  for  reflection. 

"  I  shall  at  once  assume  that  her  fate  is  irrevocably  knitted 
to  my  own,  and  I  shall  act  as  though  the  tie  was  indissoluble. 
After  all,  if  she  puts  me  to  the  proof,  I  have  her  letters, —  cold 
and  guarded  enough,  it  is  true.  No  fervor,  no  gush  of  any 
kind,  but  calm  dissertations  on  a  future  that  must  come,  and 
a  certain  dignified  acceptance  of  her  own  part  in  it.  Not  the 
kind  of  letters  that  a  Q.  C.  could  read  with  much  rapture 
before  a  crowded  court,  and  ask  the  assembled  grocers, 
*  What  happiness  has  life  to  offer  to  the  man  robbed  of  those 
precious  pledges  of  affection,  —  how  was  he  to  face  the 
world,  stripped  of  every  attribute  that  cherished  hope  and 
fed  ambition  ?  '  " 

He  was  walking  slowly  towards  her  when  he  first  saw  her, 
and  he  had  some  seconds  to  prepare  himself  ere  they  met. 

*'  I  came  down  after  you,  Maude,"  said  he,  in  a  voice 
ingeniously  modulated  between  the  tone  of  old  intimacy  and 
a  slight  suspicion  of  emotion.  "  I  came  down  to  tell  you  my 
news — "  he  waited,  and  then  added,  "  my  fate!  " 

Still  she  was  silent,  the  changed  word  exciting  no  more 
interest  than  its  predecessor. 

*' Feeling  as  I  do,"  he  went  on,  "  and  how  we  stand  to- 
wards each  other,  I  cannot  but  know  that  my  destiny  has 
nothing  good  or  evil  in  it,  except  as  it  contributes  to  your 
happiness."  He  stole  a  glance  at  her,  but  there  was  nothing 
in  that  cold,  calm  face  that  could  guide  him.  With  a  bold 
effort,  however,  he  went  on:  "  My  own  fortune  in  life  has 
but  one  test,  —  is  my  existence  to  be  shared  with  you  or 
not?  With  your  hand  in  mine,  Maude,"  —  and  he  grasped 
the  marble-cold  fingers  as  he  spoke  —  ' '  poverty,  exile,  hard- 
ships, and  the  world's  neglect  have  no  terrors  for  me. 
With  your  love,  every  ambition  of  my  heart  is  gratified. 
Without  it  — " 

"Well,  without  it  —  what?"  said  she,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"You  would  not  torture  me  by  such  a  doubt?  Would  you 
rack  ray  soul  by  a  misery  I  have  not  words  to  speak  of  ?  " 

28 


434  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  say  what  it  might  be,  when 
I  stopped  you." 

*'0h,  drop  this  cold  and  bantering  tone,  dearest  Maude. 
Remember  the  question  is  now  of  my  very  life  itself.  If 
you  cannot  be  affectionate,  at  least  be  reasonable !  " 

"I  shall  try,"  said  she,  calmly. 

Stung  to  the  quick  by  a  composure  which  he  could  not 
Imitate,  he  was  able,  however,  to  repress  every  show  of 
anger,  and  with  a  manner  cold  and  measured  as  her  own,  he 
went  on:  "My  Lord  advises  that  I  should  go  back  to  diplo- 
macy, and  has  asked  the  Ministers  to  give  me  Guatemala. 
It  is  nothing  very  splendid.  It  is  far  away  in  a  remote  part 
of  the  world;  not  over- well  paid,  but,  at  least,  I  shall  be 
Charge-d' Affaires,  and  by  three  years  —  four,  at  most  — 
of  this  banishment  I  shall  have  a  claim  for  something 
better." 

"I  hope  you  may,  I'm  sure,"  said  she,  as  he  seemed  to 
expect  something  like  a  remark. 

"That  is.  not  enough,  Maude,  if  the  hope  be  not  a  wish, 
—  and  a  wish  that  includes  self-interest." 
•  "1  am  so  dull,  Cecil;  tell  me  what  you  mean?  " 

"Simply  this,  then:  does  your  heart  tell  you  that  you 
could  share  this  fortune,  and  brave  these  hardships;  in 
one  word,  will  you  say  what  will  make  me  regard  this  fate 
as  the  happiest  of  my  existence?  Will  you  give  me  this 
dear  hand  as  my  own,  — my  own?  "  and  he  pressed  his  lips 
upon  it  rapturously  as  he  spoke. 

She  made  no  effort  to  release  her  hand ;  nor  for  a  second 
or  two  did  she  say  one  word.  At  last,  in  a  very  measured 
tone,  she  said,  "I  should  like  to  have  back  my  letters." 

"Your  letters?  Do  you  mean,  Maude,  that  —  that  you 
would  break  with  me?  " 

"I  mean,  certainl}^,  that  I  should  not  go  to  this  horrid 
place  —  " 

"Then  I  shall  refuse  it,"  broke  he  in,  impetuously. 

"Not  that  only,  Cecil,"  said  she,  for  the  first  time  falter- 
ing; "but  except  being  very  good  friends,  I  do  not  desire 
that  there  should  be  more  between  us." 

"No  engagement?  " 

"No,  no  engagement.     I  do  not  believe  there  ever  was  an 


"A  DEFEAT."  435 

actual  promise,  at  least  on  my  part.  Other  people  had  no 
right  to  promise  for  either  of  us ;  and  —  and,  in  fact,  the 
present  is  a  good  opportunity  to  end  it." 

''To  end  it,"  echoed  he,  in  intense  bitterness, — "to 
end  it?" 

"And  I  should  like  to  have  my  letters,"  said  she,  calmly, 
while  she  took  some  freshly  plucked  flowers  from  a  basket 
on  her  arm,  and  appeared  to  seek  for  something  at  the 
bottom  of  the  basket. 

"I  thought  you  would  come  down  here,  Cecil,"  said  she, 
"when  you  had  spoken  to  my  uucle.  Indeed,  I  was  sure 
you  would,  and  so  I  brought  these  with  me."  And  she  drew 
forth  a  somewhat  thick  bundle  of  notes  and  letters  tied  with 
a  narrow  ribbon.  "These  are  yours,"  said  she,  handing 
them. 

Far  more  piqued  by  her  cold  self-possession  than  really 
wounded  in  feeling,  he  took  the  packet  without  a  word. 
At  last  he  said,  "This  is  your  own  wish,  — your  own,  un- 
prompted by  others  ?  " 

She  stared  almost  insolently  at  him  for  answer. 

"  I  mean,  Maude,  —  oh,  forgive  me  if  I  utter  that  dear 
name  once  more,  —  I  mean  there  has  been  no  influence  used 
to  make  you  treat  me  thus  ?  " 

"You  have  known  me  to  very  little  purpose  all  these  years, 
Cecil  Walpole,  to  ask  me  such  a  question." 

"I  am  not  sure  of  that.  I  know  too  well  what  misrepre- 
sentation and  calumny  can  do  anywhere;  and  I  have  been 
involved  in  certain  difficulties  which,  if  not  explained  away, 
might  be  made  accusations,  — grave  accusations." 

"1  make  none;  I  listen  to  none." 

"I  have  become  an  object  of  complete  indifference,  then? 
You  feel  no  interest  in  me  either  way.  If  I  dared,  Maude, 
I  should  like  to  ask  the  date  of  this  change,  —  when  it 
began  ?  " 

"I  don't  well  know  what  you  mean.  There  was  not,  so 
far  as  I  am  aware,  anything  between  us,  except  a  certain 
esteem  and  respect,  of  which  convenience  was  to  make 
something  more.  Now  convenience  has  broken  faith  with 
us;  but  we  are  not  the  less  verv  ^ood  friends,  —  excellent 
friends,  if  you  lik©  " 


436  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

"Excellent  friends!  I  could  swear  to  the  friendship!" 
said  he,  with  a  malicious  energy. 

"So,  at  least,  I  mean  to  be,"  said  she,  calmly. 

"I  hope  it  is  not  I  shall  fail  in  the  compact.  And  now 
will  my  quality  of  friend  entitle  me  to  ask  one  question, 
Maude?" 

"I  am  not  sure  till  I  hear  it." 

"I  might  have  hoped  a  better  opinion  of  my  discretion; 
at  all  events,  I  will  risk  my  question.  What  I  would  ask  is, 
how  far  Joseph  Atlee  is  mixed  up  with  your  judgment  of 
me?     Will  you  tell  me  this?  " 

"I  will  only  tell  you,  sir,  that  you  are  over-vain  of  that 
discretion  you  believe  you  possess." 

"Then  I  am  right,"  cried  he,  almost  insolently.  "I  have 
hit  the  blot." 

A  glance,  a  mere  glance  of  haughty  disdain,  was  the  only 
reply  she  made. 

*'I  am  shocked,  Maude,"  said  he  at  last.  "I  am  ashamed 
that  we  should  spend  in  this  way  perhaps  the  very  last  few 
minutes  we  shall  ever  pass  together.  Heart-broken  as  I 
am,  I  should  desire  to  carry  away  one  memory,  at  least,  of 
her  whose  love  was  the  loadstar  of  my  existence." 

''I  want  my  letters,  Cecil,"  said  she,  coldly. 

*'So  that  you  came  down  here  with  mine,  prepared  for 
this  rupture,  Maude?  It  was  all  prearranged  in  your 
mind." 

''More  discretion;  more  discretion,  or  good  taste, — 
which  is  it?  " 

"I  ask  pardon,  most  humbly  I  ask  it;  your  rebuke  was 
quite  just.  I  was  presuming  upon  a  past  which  has  no  rela- 
tion to  the  present.  I  shall  not  offend  any  more.  And 
now  what  was  it  you  said  ?  " 

"I  want  my  letters." 

"They  are  here,"  said  he,  drawing  a  thick  envelope  fully 
crammed  with  letters  from  his  pocket,  and  placing  it  in  her 
hand.  "Scarcely  as  carefully  or  as  nicely  kept  as  mine,  for 
they  have  been  read  over  too  many  times ;  and  with  what 
rapture,  Maude!  How  pressed  to  my  heart  and  to  my  lips, 
how  treasured !     Shall  I  tell  you  ?  " 

There  was  that  of  exaggerated  passion  —  almost  rant  —  in 


"A  DEFEAT."  437 

these  last  words  that  certainly  did  not  impress  them  with 
reality ;  and  either  Lady  Maude  was  right  in  doubting  their 
sincerity,  or  cruelly  unjust,  for  she  smiled  faintly  as  she 
heard  them. 

"No,  don't  tell  me,"  said  she,  faintly.  "I  am  already  so 
much  flattered  by  courteous  anticipation  of  my  wishes  that  I 
ask  for  nothing  more." 

He  bowed  his  head  lowly ;  but  his  smile  was  one  of  tri- 
umph, as  he  thought  how,  this  time  at  least,  he  had 
wounded  her. 

''There  are  some  trinkets,  Cecil,"  said  she,  coldly, 
"which  I  have  made  into  a  packet,  and  you  will  find  them 
on  your  dressing-table.  And  —  it  may  save  you  some  dis- 
comfort if  I  say  that  you  need  not  give  yourself  trouble  to 
recover  the  little  ring  with  an  opal  I  once  gave  you,  for  I 
have  it  now." 

"May  I  dare?" 

"You  may  not  dare.     Good-bye." 

And  she  gave  her  hand ;  he  bent  over  it  for  a  moment, 
scarcely  touched  it  with  his  lips,  and  turned  away. 


CHAPTER   LXI. 


Of  all  the  discomfitures  in  life  there  was  one  which  Cecil 
Walpole  did  not  believe  could  possibly  befall  him.  Indeed, 
if  it  could  have  been  made  a  matter  of  betting,  he  would 
have  wagered  all  he  had  in  the  world  that  no  woman  should 
ever  be  able  to  say  she  refused  his  offer  of  marriage. 

He  had  canvassed  the  matter  very  often  with  himself,  and 
always  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion,  —  that  if  a  man  were 
not  a  mere  coxcomb,  blinded  by  vanity  and  self-esteem,  he 
could  always  know  how  a  woman  really  felt  towards  him ; 
and  that  where  the  question  admitted  of  a  doubt,  where, 
indeed,  there  was  even  a  flaw  in  the  absolute  certainty,  no 
man  with  a  due  sense  of  what  was  owing  to  himself  would 
risk  his  dignity  by  the  possibility  of  a  refusal.  It  was  a 
part  of  his  peculiar  ethics  that  a  man  thus  rejected  was 
damaged,  pretty  much  as  a  bill  that  has  been  denied  accept- 
ance. It  was  the  same  wound  to  credit,  the  same  outrage 
on  character.  Considering,  therefore,  that  nothing  obliged 
a  man  to  make  an  offer  of  his  hand  till  he  had  assured  him- 
self of  success,  it  was  to  his  thinking  a  mere  gratuitous 
pursuit  of  insult  to  be  refused.  That  no  especial  delicacy 
kept  these  things  secret,  that  women  talked  of  them  freely, 
—  ay,  triumphantly,  —  that  they  made  the  staple  of  conver- 
sation at  afternoon  tea  and  the  club,  with  all  the  flippant 
comments  that  dear  friends  know  how  to  contribute  as  to 
your  vanity  and  presumption,  he  was  well  aware.  Indeed, 
he  had  been  long  an  eloquent  contributor  to  that  scandal 
literature  which  amuses  the  leisure  of  fashion  and  helps  on 
the  tedium  of  an  ordinary  dinner.  How  Lady  Maude 
would  report  the  late  scene  in  the  garden  to  the  Countess  of 
Mecherscrof t,    who   would   tell   it  to   her  company  at  her 


A  "CHANGE   OF  FRONT."  439 

country-house!  —  How  the  Lady  Georginas  would  discuss  it 
over  luncheon,  and  the  Lord  Georges  talk  of  it  out  shooting ! 
\Yhat  a  host  of  pleasant  anecdotes  would  be  told  of  his  inor- 
dinate puppyism  and  self-esteem!  How  even  the  dullest 
fellows  would  dare  to  throw  a  stone  at  him !  What  a  target 
for  a  while  he  would  be  for  every  marksman  at  any  range 
to  shoot  at!  All  these  his  quick-witted  ingenuity  pictured 
at  once  before  him. 

"I  see  it  all,"  cried  he,  as  he  paced  his  room  in  self- 
examination.  "  1  have  suffered  myself  to  be  carried  away 
by  a  burst  of  momentary  impulse.  I  brought  up  all  my 
reserves,  and  have  failed  utterly.  Nothing  can  save  me  now 
but  a  '  change  of  front.'  It  is  the  last  bit  of  generalship 
remaining,  —  a  change  of  front,  a  change  of  front!  "  And 
he  repeated  the  words  over  and  over,  as  though  hoping  they 
might  light  up  his  ingenuity.  "I  might  go  and  tell  her 
that  all  I  had  been  saying  was  mere  jest ;  that  I  could  never 
have  dreamed  of  asking  her  to  follow  me  into  barbarism; 
that  to  go  to  Guatemala  was  equivalent  to  accepting  a 
yellow  fever, — it  was  courting  disease,  perhaps  death; 
that  my  insistence  was  a  mere  mockery,  in  the  worst  pos- 
sible taste;  but  that  I  had  already  agreed  with  Lord  Danes- 
bury,  our  engagement  should  be  cancelled ;  that  his  Lord- 
ship's memory  of  our  conversation  would  corroborate  me  in 
saying  I  had  no  intention  to  propose  such  a  sacrifice  to  her ; 
and,  indeed,  I  had  but  provoked  her  to  say  the  very  things 
and  use  the  very  arguments  I  had  already  employed  to  my- 
self as  a  sort  of  aid  to  my  own  heartfelt  convictions.  Here 
would  be  a  '  change  of  front '  with  a  vengeance. 

"She  will  already  have  written  off  the  whole  interview; 
the  despatch  is  finished,"  cried  he,  after  a  moment.  "It  is 
a  change  of  front  the  day  after  the  battle.  The  people  will 
read  of  my  manoeuvre  with  the  bulletin  of  victory  before 
them. 

"Poor  Frank  Touchet  used  to  say,"  cried  he,  aloud, 
''  '  Whenever  they  refuse  my  checks  at  the  Bank,  I  always 
transfer  my  account ; '  and,  fortunately,  the  world  is  big 
enough  for  these  tactics  for  several  years.  That 's  a 
change  of  front,  too,  if  I  knew  how  to  adapt  it.  I  must 
marry  another  woman;  there's  nothing  else  for  it.     It  is 


440  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

the  only  escape;  and  the  question  is,  Who  shall  she  be?" 
The  more  he  meditated  over  this  change  of  front  the  more 
he  saw  that  his  destiny  pointed  to  the  Greek.  If  he  could 
see  clearly  before  him  to  a  high  career  in  diplomacy,  the 
Greek  girl,  in  everything  but  fortune,  would  suit  him  well. 
Her  marvellous  beauty,  her  grace  of  manner,  her  social  tact 
and  readiness,  her  skill  in  languages,  were  all  the  very  qual- 
ities most  in  request.  Such  a  woman  would  make  the  full 
complement,  by  her  fascinations,  of  all  that  her  husband 
could  accomplish  by  his  abilities.  The  little  indiscretions 
of  old  men  —  especially  old  men  —  with  these  women,  the 
lapses  of  confidence  they  made  them,  the  dropping  admis- 
sions of  this  or  that  intention,  made  up  what  Walpole  knew 
to  be  high  diplomacy. 

''Nothing  worth  hearing  is  ever  got  by  a  man,"  was  an 
adage  he  treasured  as  deep  wisdom.  Why  Kings  resort  to 
that  watering-place,  and  accidentally  meet  certain  Ministers 
going  somewhere  else;  why  Kaisers  affect  to  review  troops 
here,  that  they  maybe  able  to  talk  statecraft  there;  how 
princely  compacts  and  contracts  of  marriage  are  made  at 
sulphur  springs,  —  all  these  and  such  like  leaked  out  as  small 
talk  with  a  young  and  pretty  woman,  whose  frivolity  of 
manner  went  bail  for  the  safety  of  the  confidence,  and 
went  far  to  persuade  Walpole  that  though  Bank  Stock  might 
be  a  surer  investment,  there  were  paying  qualities  in  certain 
women  that  in  the  end  promised  larger  returns  than  mere 
money,  and  higher  rewards  than  mere  wealth.  "Yes,"  cried 
he  to  himself,  "  this  is  the  real  change  of  front ;  this  has  all 
in  its  favor." 

Nor  yet  all.  Strong  as  Walpole's  self-esteem  was,  and 
high  his  estimate  of  his  own  capacity,  he  had  —  he  could 
not  conceal  it — a  certain  misgiving  as  to  whether  he  really 
understood  that  girl  or  not.  "I  have  watched  many  a  bolt 
from  her  bow,"  said  he,  "and  think  I  know  their  range. 
But  now  and  then  she  has  shot  an  arrow  into  the  clear  sky, 
and  far  beyond  my  sight  to  follow  it." 

That  scene  in  the  wood,  too.  Absurd  enough  that  it 
should  obtrude  itself  at  such  a  moment ;  but  it  was  the  sort 
of  indication  that  meant  much  more  to  a  man  like  Walpole 
than  to  men  of  other  experiences.     Was  she  flirting  with 


A  "CHANGE   OF  FRONT."  441 

this  youDg  Austrian  soldier?  No  great  harm  if  she  were; 
but  still  there  had  been  passages  between  himself  and  her 
which  should  have  bound  her  over  to  more  circumspection. 
Was  there  not  a  shadowy  sort  of  engagement  between 
them?  Lawyers  deem  a  mere  promise  to  grant  a  lease  as 
equivalent  to  a  contract.  It  would  be  a  curious  question  in 
morals  to  inquire  how  far  the  licensed  perjuries  of  court- 
ship are  statutory  offences.  Perhaps  a  sly  consciousness  on 
his  own  part  that  he  was  not  playing  perfectly  fair  made 
him,  as  it  might  do,  more  than  usually  tenacious  that  his 
adversary  should  be  honest.  What  chance  the  innocent 
public  would  have  with  two  people  who  were  so  adroit  with 
each  other  was  his  next  thought ;  and  he  actually  laughed 
aloud  as  it  occurred  to  him.  ''I  only  wish  my  Lord  would 
invite  us  here  before  we  sail.  If  I  could  but  show  her  to 
Maude,  half  an  hour  of  these  women  together  would  be  the 
heaviest  vengeance  I  could  ask  her !  I  wonder  how  could 
that  be  managed?  " 

''A  despatch,  sir,  his  Lordship  begs  you  to  read,"  said  a 
servant,  entering.  It  was  an  open  envelope,  and  contained 
these  words  on  a  slip  of  paper:  — 

"W.  shall  have  Guatemala.  He  must  go  out  by  the  mail 
of  November  15.  Send  him  here  for  instructions."  Some 
words  in  cipher  followed,  and  an  under-secretary's  initials. 

"Now,  then,  for  the  '  change  of  front.'  I  '11  write  to  Nina 
by  this  post.  I  '11  ask  my  Lord  to  let  me  tear  off  this  por- 
tion of  the  telegram,  and  I  shall  enclose  it." 

The  letter  was  not  so  easily  written  as  he  thought;  at 
least,  he  made  more  than  one  draught,  and  was  at  last  in 
great  doubt  whether  a  long  statement  or  a  few  and  very 
decided  lines  might  be  better.  How  he  ultimately  deter- 
mined, and  what  he  said,  cannot  be  given  here;  for,  unhap- 
pily, the  conditions  of  my  narrative  require  I  should  ask  my 
reader  to  accompany  me  to  a  very  distant  spot,  and  other 
interests  which  were  just  then  occupying  the  attention  of 
an  almost  forgotten  acquaintance  of  ours,  the  redoubted 
Joseph  Atlee. 


CHAPTER   LXII. 

WITH   A    PASHA. 

Joseph  Atlee  had  a  very  busy  morning  of  it  on  a  certain 
November  day  at  Pera,  when  the  post  brought  him  tidings 
that  Lord  Danesbury  had  resigned  the  Irish  Viceroyalty, 
and  had  been  once  more  named  to  his  old  post  as  Ambassa- 
dor at  Constantinople. 

"My  uncle  desires  me,"  wrote  Lady  Maude,  "to  impress 
you  with  the  now  all-important  necessity  of  obtaining  the 
papers  you  know  of,  and,  so  far  as  you  are  able,  to  secure 
that  no  authorized  copies  of  them  are  extant.  Kulbash 
Pasha  will,  my  Lord  says,  be  very  tractable  when  once 
assured  that  our  return  to  Turkey  is  a  certainty ;  but  should 
you  detect  signs  of  hesitation  or  distrust  in  the  Grand 
Vizier's  conduct,  you  will  hint  that  the  investigation  as  to 
the  issue  of  the  Galatz  shares  —  '  preference  shares  '  —  may 
be  re-opened  at  any  moment,  and  that  the  Ottoman  Bank 
agent,  Schaffer,  has  drawn  up  a  memoir  which  my  uncle 
now  holds.  I  copy  my  Lord's  words  for  all  this,  and  sin- 
cerely hope  you  will  understand  it,  which,  I  confess,  /  do 
not  at  all.  My  Lord  cautioned  me  not  to  occupy  your  time 
or  attention  by  any  reference  to  Irish  questions,  but  leave 
you  perfectly  free  to  deal  with  those  larger  interests  of  the 
East  that  should  now  engage  you.  I  forbear,  therefore,  to 
do  more  than  mark  with  a  pencil  the  part  in  the  debates 
which  might  interest  you,  especially,  and  merely  add  the 
fact,  otherwise,  perhaps,  not  very  credible,  that  Mr.  Wal- 
pole  did  write  the  famous  letter  imputed  to  him,  did  prom- 
ise the  amnesty,  or  whatever  be  the  name  of  it,  and  did 
pledge  the  honor  of  the  Government  to  a  transaction  with 
these  Fenian  leaders.     With  what  success  to  his  own  pros- 


WITH  A  PASHA.  443 

pects  the  '  Gazette '  will  speak,  that  announces  his  appoint- 
ment to  Guatemala. 

"I  am  myself  very  far  from  sorry  at  our  change  of  desti- 
nation. I  prefer  the  Bosphorus  to  the  Bay  of  Dublin,  and 
like  Pera  better  than  the  Phoenix.  It  is  not  alone  that  the 
interests  are  greater,  the  questions  larger,  and  the  conse- 
quences more  important  to  the  world  at  large,  but  that,  as 
my  uncle  has  just  said,  you  are  spared  the  peddling  imper- 
tinence of  Parliament  interfering  at  every  moment,  and 
questioning  your  conduct,  from  an  invitation  to  Cardinal 
Cullen  to  the  dismissal  of  a  chief  constable.  Happily,  the 
gentlemen  at  Westminster  know  nothing  about  Turkey,  and 
have  the  prudence  not  to  ventilate  their  ignorance,  except  in 
secret  committee.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  tell  you  that  my 
Lord  sees  great  difficulty  in  what  you  propose  as  to  yourself. 
F.  O.,  he  says,  would  not  easily  consent  to  your  being 
named  even  a  third  secretary  without  your  going  through 
the  established  grade  of  attache.  All  the  unquestionable 
merits  he  knows  you  to  possess  would  count  for  nothing 
against  an  official  regulation.  The  course  my  Lord  would 
suggest  is  this:  To  enter  now  as  mere  attache,  to  continue  in 
this  position  some  three  or  four  months,  come  over  here  for 
the  general  election  in  February,  get  into  '  the  House,'  and 
after  some  few  sessions  —  one  or  two  —  rejoin  diplomacy,  to 
which  you  might  be  appointed  as  a  secretary  of  legation. 
My  uncle  named  to  me  three,  if  not  four,  cases  of  this  kind. 
One,  indeed,  stepped  at  once  into  a  mission  and  became  a 
minister;  and  though,  of  course,  the  Opposition  made  a 
fuss,  they  failed  in  their  attempt  to  break  the  appointment, 
and  the  man  will  probably  be  soon  an  ambassador.  l| 
accept  the  little  yataghan,  but  sincerely  wish  the  present] 
had  been  of  less  value.  There  is  one  enormous  emerald  in! 
the  handle  which  I  am  much  tempted  to  transfer  to  a  ring.^ 
Perhaps  I  ought,  in  decency,  to  have  your  permission  for! 
the  change.  The  burnous  is  very  beautiful,  but  I  could  not' 
accept  it;  an  article  of  dress  is  in  the  category  of  things, 
impossible.  Have  you  no  Irish  sisters,  or  even  cousins? 
Pray  give  me  a  destination  to  address  it  to  in  your  next. 

"My  uncle  desires  me  to  say  that,  all  invaluable  as  your 
services  have  become  where  you  are,  he  needs  you  greatly 


444  LOKD   KILGOBBIN. 

here,  and  would  hear  with  pleasure  that  you  were  about  to 
return.  He  is  curious  to  know  who  wrote  '  L'Orient  et  Lord 
D. '  in  the  last  '  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes. '  The  savagery  of 
the  attack  implies  a  personal  rancor.  Find  out  the  author, 
and  reply  to  him  in  the  '  Edinburgh. '  My  Lord  suspects 
he  may  have  had  access  to  the  papers  he  has  already  alluded 
to,  and  is  the  more  eager  to  repossess  them." 

A  telegraphic  despatch  in  cipher  was  put  into  his  hands 
as  he  was  reading.  It  was  from  Lord  Danesbury,  and  said, 
''Come  back  as  soon  as  you  can,  but  not  before  making  K. 
Pasha  know  his  fate  is  in  my  hands." 

As  the  Grand  Vizier  had  already  learned  from  the  Otto- 
man Ambassador  at  London  the  news  that  Lord  Danesbury 
was  about  to  resume  his  former  post  at  Constantinople,  his 
Turkish  impassiveness  was  in  no  way  imperilled  by  Atlee's 
abrupt  announcement.  It  is  true  he  would  have  been 
pleased  had  the  English  Government  sent  out  some  one  new 
to  the  East  and  a  stranger  to  all  Oriental  questions.  He 
would  have  liked  one  of  those  veterans  of  diplomacy  versed 
in  the  old-fashioned  ways  and  knaveries  of  German  courts, 
and  whose  shrewdest  ideas  of  a  subtle  policy  are  centred 
in  a  few  social  spies  and  a  "Cabinet  Noir."  The  Pasha 
had  no  desire  to  see  there  a  man  who  knew  all  the  secret 
machinery  of  a  Turkish  administration,  what  corruption 
could  do,  and  where  to  look  for  the  men  who  could 
employ  it. 

The  thing  was  done,  however,  and  with  that  philosophy 
of  resignation  to  a  fact  in  which  no  nation  can  rival  his  own, 
he  muttered  his  polite  congratulations  on  the  event,  and 
declared  that  the  dearest  wish  of  his  heart  was  now  accom- 
plished. 

"We  had  half  begun  to  believe  you  had  abandoned  us, 
Mr.  Atlee,"  said  he.  "When  England  commits  her  inter- 
ests to  inferior  men,  she  usually  means  to  imply  that  they 
are  worth  nothing  better.  I  am  rejoiced  to  see  that  we  are, 
at  last,  awakened  from  this  delusion.  With  his  Excellency 
Lord  Danesbury  here,  we  shall  be  soon  once  more  where  we 
have  been." 

"Your  fleet  is  in  effective  condition,  well  armed  and  well 
disciplined?  " 


WITH  A  PASHA.  445 

"All,  all,"  smiled  the  Pasha. 

"The  army  reformed,  the  artillery  supplied  with  the  most 
efficient  guns,  and  officers  of  European  services  encouraged 
to  join  your  staff  ?  " 

"All." 

"Wise  economies  in  your  financial  matters,  close  super- 
vision in  the  collection  of  the  revenue,  and  searching  inqui- 
ries where  abuses  exist?" 

"All." 

"Especial  care  that  the  administration  of  justice  should 
be  beyond  even  the  malevolence  of  distrust,  that  men  of 
station  and  influence  should  be  clear-handed  and  honorable, 
not  a  taint  of  unfairness  to  attach  to  them?  " 

"Be  it  all  so,"  ejaculated  the  Pasha,  blandly. 

"By  the  way,  I  am  reminded  by  a  line  I  have  just 
received  from  his  Excellency  with  reference  to  Sulina,  or 
was  it  Galatz  ?  " 

The  Pasha  could  not  decide,  and  he  went  on :  — 

"  I  remember,  it  is  Galatz.  There  is  some  curious  ques- 
tion there  of  a  concession  for  a  line  of  railroad,  which  a 
Servian  commissioner  had  the  skill  to  obtain  from  the 
Cabinet  here,  by  a  sort  of  influence  which  our  Stock 
Exchange  people  in  London  scarcely  regard  as  regular." 

The  Pasha  nodded  to  imply  attention,  and  smoked  on  as 
before. 

"But  I  weary  your  Excellency,"  said  Atlee,  rising,  "and 
my  real  business  here  is  accomplished." 

"Tell  my  Lord  that  I  await  his  arrival  with  impatience; 
that  of  all  pending  questions  none  shall  receive  solution  till 
he  comes;  that  I  am  the  very  least  of  his  servants."  And 
with  an  air  of  most  dignified  sincerity  he  bowed  him  out; 
and  Atlee  hastened  away  to  tell  his  chief  that  he  had 
"squared  the  Turk,"  and  would  sail  on  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

ATLEE    ON    HIS    TRAVELS. 

On  board  the  Austrian  Lloyd's  steamer  in  which  he  sailed 
from  Constantinople,  Joseph  Atlee  employed  himself  in  the 
composition  of  a  small  volume  purporting  to  be  "  The 
Experiences  of  a  Two  Years'  Residence  in  Greece."  In  an 
opening  chapter  of  this  work  he  had  modestly  intimated 
to  the  reader  how  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  lan- 
guage and  literature  of  modern  Greece,  great  opportunities 
of  mixing  with  every  class  and  condition  of  the  people, 
a  mind  well  stored  with  classical  acquirements  and  thor- 
oughly versed  in  antiquarian  lore,  a  strong  poetic  temper- 
ament and  the  feeling  of  an  artist  for  scenery,  had  all 
combined  to  give  him  a  certain  fitness  for  his  task ;  and 
by  the  extracts  from  his  diary  it  would  be  seen  on  what 
terms  of  freedom  he  conversed  with  ministers  and  ambas- 
sadors, even  with  royalty  itself. 

A  most  pitiless  chapter  was  devoted  to  the  exposure  of  the 
mistakes  and  misrepresentations  of  a  late  "  Quarterly"  arti- 
cle called  "Greece  and  her  Protectors,"  whose  statements 
were  the  more  mercilessly  handled  and  ridiculed  that  the 
paper  in  question  had  been  written  by  himself,  and  the 
sarcastic  allusions  to  the  sources  of  the  information  not  the 
less  pungent  on  that  account. 

That  the  writer  had  been  admitted  to  frequent  audi- 
ences of  the  king;  that  he  had  discussed  with  his  Majesty 
the  cutting  of  the  Isthmus  of  Corinth ;  that  the  king  had 
seriously  confided  to  him  his  belief  that  in  the  event  of 
his  abdication  the  Ionian  Islands  must  revert  to  him  as  a 
personal  appanage,  the  terms  on  which  they  were  annexed 
to  Greece  being  decided  by  lawyers  to  bear  this  interpre- 


ATLEE  ON  HIS  TRAVELS.  447 

tation,  —  all  these  Atlee  denied  of  his  own  knowledge,  and 
asked  the  reader  to  follow  him  into  the  royal  cabinet  for 
his  reasons. 

When,  therefore,  he  heard  that  from  some  damage  to 
the  machinery  the  vessel  must  be  detained  some  days  at 
Syra  to  refit,  Atlee  was  scarcely  sorry  that  necessity  gave 
him  an  opportunity  to  visit  Athens. 

A  little  about  Ulysses  and  a  good  deal  about  Lord  Byron, 
a  smattering  of  Grote,  and  a  more  perfect  memory  of 
About  were,  as  he  owned  to  himself,  all  his  Greece;  but 
he  could  answer  for  what  three  days  in  the  country  would 
do  for  him,  particularly  with  that  spirit  of  candid  inquiry 
he  could  now  bring  to  his  task,  and  the  genuine  fairness 
with  which  he  desired  to  judge  the  people. 

''The  two  years'  resident"  in  Athens  must  doubtless 
often  have  dined  with  his  Minister,  and  so  Atlee  sent  his 
card  to  the  Legation. 

Mr.  Brammell,  our  "  present  Minister  at  Athens,"  as  the 
"Times"  continued  to  designate  him,  as  though  to  imply 
that  the  appointment  might  not  be  permanent,  was  an 
excellent  man,  of  that  stamp  of  which  diplomacy  has  more, 
—  who  consider  that  the  court  to  which  they  are  accred- 
ited concentrates  for  the  time  the  political  interests  of  the 
globe.  That  any  one  in  Europe  thought,  read,  spoke,  or 
listened  to  anything  but  what  was  then  happening  in  Greece, 
Mr.  Brammell  could  not  believe.  That  France  or  Prussia, 
Spain  or  Italy,  could  divide  attention  with  this  small  king- 
dom ;  that  the  great  political  minds  of  the  Continent  were 
not  more  eager  to  know  what  Comoundouros  thought  and 
Bulgaris  required,  than  all  about  Bismarck  and  Gortchakoff, 
he  could  not  be  brought  to  conceive;  and  in  consequence 
of  these  convictions  he  was  an  admirable  Minister,  and 
fully  represented  all  the  interests  of  his  countr3^ 

As  that  admirable  public  instructor,  the  "Levant  Her- 
ald," had  frequently  mentioned  Atlee's  name,  now  as  the 
guest  of  Kulbash  Pasha,  now  as  having  attended  some 
public  ceremony  with  other  persons  of  importance,  and 
once  as  "  our  distinguished  countryman,  whose  wise  suof- 
gestions  and  acute  observations  have  been  duly  accepted 
by  the  imperial  cabinet,"  Brammell  at  once  knew  that  this 


448  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

distinguished  countryman  should  be  entertained  at  dinner, 
and  he  sent  him  an  invitation.  That  habit  —  so  popular 
of  late  years  —  to  send  out  some  man  from  ICngland  to  do 
something  at  a  foreign  court  that  the  British  Ambassa- 
dor or  Minister  there  either  has  not  done,  or  cannot  do, 
possibly  ought  never  to  do,  had  invested  Atlee  in  Bram- 
mell's  eyes  with  the  character  of  one  of  those  semi-accred- 
ited inscrutable  people  whose  function  it  would  seem 
to  be  to  make  us  out  the  most  meddlesome  people  in 
Europe. 

Of  course  Brammell  was  not  pleased  to  see  him  at  Athens, 
and  he  ran  over  all  the  possible  contingencies  he  might 
have  come  for.  It  might  be  the  old  Greek  loan  which 
was  to  be  raked  up  again  as  a  new  grievance.  It  might 
be  the  pensions  that  they  would  not  pay,  or  the  brigands 
that  they  would  not  catch,  —  pretty  much  for  the  same 
reasons,  —  that  they  could  not.  It  might  be  that  they 
wanted  to  hear  what  Tsousicheff,  the  new  Russian  Minis- 
ter, was  doing,  and  whether  the  farce  of  the  "  Grand  Idea" 
was  advertised  for  repetition.  It  might  be  Crete  was  on 
the  tapis^  or  it  might  be  the  question  of  the  Greek  envoy 
to  the  Porte  that  the  Sultan  refused  to  receive,  and  which 
promised  to  turn  out  a  very  pretty  quarrel  if  only  adroitly 
treated. 

The  more  Brammell  thought  of  it,  the  more  he  felt 
assured  this  must  be  the  reason  of  Atlee's  visit,  and  the 
more  indignant  he  grew  that  extra-official  means  should  be 
employed  to  investigate  what  he  had  written  seventeen 
despatches  to  explain, — seventeen  despatches,  with  nine 
''enclosures,"  and  a  "private  and  confidential,"  about  to 
appear  in  a  blue-book. 

To  make  the  dinner  as  confidential  as  might  be,  the  only 
guests  besides  Atlee  were  a  couple  of  yachting  Englishmen, 
a  German  Professor  of  Archaeology,  and  the  American 
Minister,  who,  of  course,  speaking  no  language  but  his 
own,  could  always  be  escaped  from  by  a  digression  into 
French,  German,  or  Italian. 

Atlee  felt,  as  he  entered  the  drawing-room,  that  the  com- 
pany was  what  he  irreverently  called  afterwards  a  scratch 
team ;  and  with  an  almost  equal  quickness,  he  saw  that  he 


ATLEE   ON  HIS  TRAVELS.  449 

himself  was  the  "personage"  of  the  entertainment,  the 
"man  of  mark"  of  the  party. 

The  same  tact  which  enabled  him  to  perceive  ail  this 
made  him  especially  guarded  in  all  he  said,  so  that  his  host's 
efforts  to  unveil  his  intentions  and  learn  what  he  had  come 
for  were  complete  failures.  "  Greece  was  a  charming 
country,  —  Greece  was  the  parent  of  any  civilization  we 
boasted.  She  gave  us  those  ideas  of  architecture  with  which 
we  raised  that  glorious  temple  at  Kensington,  and  that 
taste  for  sculpture  which  we  exhibited  near  Apsley  House. 
Aristophanes  gave  us  our  comic  drama,  and  only  the  defaults 
of  our  language  made  it  difficult  to  show  why  the  Member  for 
Cork  did  not  more  often  recall  Demosthenes." 

As  for  insolvency,  it  was  a  very  gentlemanlike  failing; 
while  brigandage  was  only  what  Shell  used  to  euphemizo  as 
"the  wild  justice"  of  noble  spirits,  too  impatient  for  the 
sluggard  steps  of  slow  redress,  and  too  proud  not  to  be 
self-reliant. 

Thus  excusing  and  extenuating  wherein  he  could  not 
flatter,  Atlee  talked  on  the  entire  evening,  till 'he  sent  the 
two  Englishmen  home  heartily  sick  of  a  bombastic  eulogy  on 
the  land  where  a  pilot  had  run  their  cutter  on  a  rock,  and  a 
revenue  officer  had  seized  all  their  tobacco.  The  German 
had  retired  early,  and  the  Yankee  hastened  to  his  lodgings 
to  "jot  down"  all  the  fine  things  he  could  commit  to  his 
next  despatch  home,  and  overwhelm  Mr.  Seward  with  an 
array  of  historic  celebrities  such  as  had  never  been  seen 
at  Washington. 

"They're  gone  at  last,"  said  the  Minister.  "Let  us 
have  our  cigar  on   the  terrace." 

The  unbounded  frankness,  the  unlimited  trustfulness  that 
now  ensued  between  these  two  men,  was  charming.  Bram- 
mell  represented  one  hard  worked  and  sorely  tried  in  his 
country's  service,  —  the  perfect  slave  of  office,  spending 
nights  long  at  his  desk,  but  not  appreciated,  not  valued  at 
home.  It  was  delightful,  therefore,  to  him  to  find  a  man 
like  Atlee,  to  whom  he  could  tell  this,  — could  tell  for  what 
an  ungrateful  country  he  toiled,  what  ignorance  he  sought 
to  enlighten,  what  actual  stupidity  he  had  to  counteract. 
He  spoke  of  the  office,  —  from  his  tone  of  horror  it  might 

29 


450  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

have  been  the  Holy  Office,  —  with  a  sort  of  tremulous  terror 
and  aversion;  the  absurd  instructions  they  sent  him,  the 
impossible  things  he  was  to  do,  the  inconceivable  lines  of 
policy  he  was  to  insist  on ;  how  but  for  him  the  king  would 
abdicate  and  a  Russian  protectorate  be  proclaimed ;  how  the 
revolt  at  Athens  would  be  proclaimed  in  Thessaly ;  how 
Skulkekoff,  the  Russian  General,  was  waiting  to  move  into 
the  provinces  ' '  at  the  first  check  my  policy  shall  receive 
here,"  cried  he.  "I  shall  show  you  on  this  map  ;  and  here 
are  the  names,  armament,  and  tonnage  of  a  hundred  and 
ninety-four  gunboats  now  ready  at  Nicholief  to  move  down 
on  Constantinople." 

Was  it  not  strange,  was  it  not  worse  than  strange,  after 
such  a  show  of  unbounded  confidence  as  this,  Atlee  would 
reveal  nothing  ?  Whatever  his  grievances  against  the  people 
he  served,  —  and  who  is  without  them?  —  he  would  say 
nothing,  he  had  no  complaint  to  make.  Things  he  admitted 
were  bad,  but  they  might  be  worse.  The  monarchy  existed 
still,  and  the  House  of  Lords  was,  for  a  while  at  least, 
tolerated.  Ireland  was  disturbed,  but  not  in  open  rebellion 
and  if  we  had  no  army  to  speak  of,  we  still  had  a  navy,  and 
even  the  present  Admiralty  only  lost  about  five  ships  a 
year ! 

Till  long  after  midnight  did  they  fence  with  each  other, 
with  buttons  on  their  foils,  —  very  harmlessly,  no  doubt,  but 
very  uselessly  too ;  Brammell  could  make  nothing  of  a  man 
■vi^ho  neither  wanted  to  hear  about  finance  or  taxation,  court 
scandal,  schools,  or  public  robbery ;  and  though  he  could 
not  in  so  many  words  ask,  What  have  you  come  for  ?  why 
are  you  here?  he  said  this  in  full  fifty  different  ways  for 
three  hours  and  more. 

"You  make  some  stay  amongst  us,  I  trust?"  said  the 
Minister,  as  his  guest  rose  to  take  leave,  "You  mean 
to  see  something  of  this  interesting  country  before  you 
leave?" 

"I  fear  not;  when  the  repairs  to  the  steamer  enable  her 
to  put  to  sea,  they  are  to  let  me  know  by  telegraph,  and  I 
shall  join  her." 

"  Are  you  so  pressed  for  time  that  you  cannot  spare  us  a 
week  or  two  ?  " 


ATLEE   ON  HIS  TEAVELS.  451 

"Totally  impossible!  Parliament  will  sit  iu  January 
next,  and  I  must  hasten  home." 

This  was  to  imply  that  he  was  in  the  House,  or  that  he 
expected  to  be,  or  that  he  ought  to  be,  and,  even  if  he  were 
not,  that  his  presence  in  England  was  all-essential  to  some- 
body who  was  in  Parliament,  and  for  whom  his  information, 
his  explanation,  his  accusation,  or  anything  else,  was  all 
needed,  and  so  Brammell  read  it  and  bowed  accordingly. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  the  Minister,  as  the  other  was  leaving 
the  room,  and  with  that  sudden  abruptness  of  a  wayward 
thought,  ' '  we  have  been  talking  of  all  sorts  of  things  and 
people,  but  not  a  word  about  what  we  are  so  full  of  here. 
How  is  this  difficulty  about  the  new  Greek  envoy  to  the 
Porte  to  end?  You  know  of  course  the  Sultan  refuses  to 
receive  him  ?  " 

"  The  Pasha  told  me  something  of  it,  but  I  confess  to  have 
paid  little  attention.     I  treated  the  matter  as  insignificant." 

"Insignificant!  You  cannot  mean  that  an  affront  so 
openly  administered  as  this,  the  greatest  national  offence 
that  could  be  offered,  is  insignificant?"  and  then  with  a 
volubility  that  smacked  very  little  of  want  of  preparation, 
he  showed  that  the  idea  of  sending  a  particular  man,  long 
compromised  by  his  complicity  in  the  Cretan  revolt,  to  Con- 
stantinople, came  from  Russia,  and  that  the  opposition  of 
the  Porte  to  accept  him  was  also  Russian.  "I  got  to  the 
bottom  of  the  whole  intrigue.  I  wrote  home  how  Tsousicheff 
was  nursing  this  new  quarrel.  I  told  our  people  facts  of 
the  Muscovite  policy  that  they  never  got  a  hint  of  from  their 
ambassador  at  St.  Petersburg." 

"It  was  rare  luck  that  we  had  you  here;  good-night, 
good-night,"  said  Atlee,  as  he  buttoned  his  coat. 

"  More  than  that,  I  said,  '  If  the  Cabinet  here  persist  in 
sending  Kostalergi  — '  " 

"  Whom  did  you  say?     What  name  was  it  you  said? " 

"  Kostalergi  —  the  Prince.  As  much  a  prince  as  you  are. 
First  of  all,  they  have  no  better;  and,  secondly,  this  is  the 
most  consummate  adventurer  in  the  East." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  him.     Is  he  here,  —  at  Athens?  " 

"  Of  course  he  is.  He  is  waiting  till  he  hears  the  Sultan 
will  receive  him." 


452  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

*'  I  should  like  to  know  him,"  said  Atlee,  more  seriously. 

**  Nothing  easier.  He  comes  here  every  day.  Will  you 
meet  him  at  dinner  to-morrow  ?  " 

*' Delighted!  but  then  I  should  like  a  little  conversation 
with  him  in  the  morning.  Perhaps  you  would  kindly  make 
me  known  to  him  ?  " 

''With  sincere  pleasure.  I'll  write  and  ask  him  to  dine, 
and  I  '11  say  that  you  will  wait  on  him.  I  '11  say,  '  My  dis- 
tinguished friend  Mr.  Atlee,  of  whom  you  have  heard,  will 
wait  on  you  about  eleven  or  twelve.'     Will  that  do?" 

"Perfectly.  So  then  I  may  make  my  visit  on  the  pre- 
sumption of  being  expected  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Not  that  Kostalergi  wants  much  prepara- 
tion. He  plays  baccarat  all  night,  but  he  is  at  his  desk  at 
six." 

"Is  he  rich?" 

"  Hasn't  a  sixpence,  — but  plays  all  the  same  ;  and  what 
people  are  more  surprised  at,  pays  when  he  loses.  If  I  had 
not  already  passed  an  evening  in  your  company,  I  should  be 
bold  enough  to  hint  to  you  the  need  of  caution -^  great 
caution  —  in  talking  with  him." 

"I  know, — I  am  aware,"  said  Atlee,  with  a  meaning 
smile. 

"You  will  not  be  misled  by  his  cunning,  Mr.  Atlee,  but 
beware  of  his  candor." 

"  I  will  be  on  my  guard.  Many  thanks  for  the  caution. 
Good-night !  —  once  more,  good-night !  " 


CHAPTER   LXIV. 

GREEK   MEETS    GREEK. 

So  excited  did  Atlee  feel  about  meeting  the  father  of  Nina 
Kostalergi,  —  of  whose  strange  doings  and  adventurous  life 
he  had  heard  much,  —  that  he  scarcely  slept  the  entire  night. 
It  puzzled  him  greatly  to  determine  in  what  character  he 
should  present  himself  to  this  crafty  Greek.  Political 
amateurship  was  now  so  popular  in  England  that  he  might 
easily  enough  pass  off  for  one  of  those  "  Bulls"  desirous  to 
make  himself  up  on  the  Greek  question.  This  was  a  part 
that  offered  no  difficulty.  ''Give  me  five  minutes  of  any 
man  —  a  little  longer  with  a  woman  —  and  I  '11  know  where 
his  sympathies  incline  to."  This  was  a  constant  boast  of 
his,  and  not  altogether  a  vain  one.  He  might  be  an  ar- 
chaeological traveller  eager  about  new-discovered  relics,  and 
curious  about  ruined  temples.  He  might  be  a  yachting  man, 
who  only  cared  for  Salamis  as  good  anchorage,  nor  thought 
of  the  Acropolis,  except  as  a  point  of  departure ;  or  he 
might  be  one  of  those  myriads  who  travel  without  knowing 
where  or  caring  why ;  airing  their  enrmi  now  at  Thebes, 
now  at  Trolhatten ;  a  weariful,  dispirited  race,  who  rarely 
look  so  thoroughl}^  alive  as  when  choosing  a  cigar  or  chang- 
ing their  money.  There  was  no  reason  why  the  "distin- 
guished Mr.  Atlee "  might  not  be  one  of  these,  —  he  was 
accredited,  too,  by  his  Minister,  and  his  "  solidarity,"  as 
the  French  call  it,  was  beyond  question. 

While  yet  revolving  these  points,  a  cavass  —  with  much 
gold  in  his  jacket,  and  a  voluminous  petticoat  of  white  calico 
—  came  to  inform  him  that  his  Excellency  the  Prince  hoped 
to  see  him  at  breakfast  at  eleven  o'clock ;  and  it  now  only 
wanted  a  few  minutes  of  that  hour.  Atlee  detained  the 
messenger  to  show  him  the  road,  and  at  last  set  out. 


454  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

Traversing  one  dreary,  ill-built  street  after  another,  they 
arrived  at  last  at  what  seemed  a  little  lane,  the  entrance  to 
which  carriages  were  denied  by  a  line  of  stone  posts,  at  the 
extremity  of  which  a  small  green  gate  appeared  in  a  wall. 
Pushing  this  wide  open,  the  cavass  stood  respectfully,  while 
Atlee  passed  in,  and  found  hiniself  in  what  for  Greece  was 
a  garden.  There  were  two  fine  palm-trees,  and  a  small 
scrub  of  oleanders  and  dwarf  cedars  that  grew  around  a  little 
fish-pond,  where  a  small  Triton  in  the  middle,  with  distended 
cheeks,  should  have  poured  forth  a  refreshing  jet  of  water, 
but  his  lips  were  dry,  and  his  conch-shell  empty,  and  the 
muddy  tank  at  his  feet  a  mere  surface  of  broad  water-lilies 
convulsively  shaken  by  bull- frogs.  A  short  shady  path  led 
to  the  house,  a  two-storied  edifice,  with  the  external  stair  of 
wood  that  seemed  to  crawl  round  it  on  every  side. 

In  a  good-sized  room  of  the  ground  floor  Atlee  found  the 
Prince  awaiting  him.  He  was  confined  to  a  sofa  by  a  slight 
sprain,  he  called  it,  and  apologized  for  his  not  being  able 
to  rise. 

The  Prince,  though  advanced  in  years,  was  still  handsome ; 
his  features  had  all  the  splendid  regularity  of  their  Greek 
origin ;  but  in  the  enormous  orbits,  of  which  the  tint 
was  nearly  black,  and  the  indented  temples,  traversed  by 
veins  of  immense  size,  and  the  firm  compression  of  his  lips, 
might  be  read  the  signs  of  a  man  who  carried  the  gambling 
spirit  into  every  incident  of  life,  one  ready  "to  back  his 
luck,"  and  show  a  bold  front  to  fortune  when  fate  proved 
adverse. 

The  Greek's  manner  was  perfect.  There  was  all  the  ease 
of  a  man  used  to  society,  with  a  sort  of  half-sly  courtesy,  as 
he  said,  "This  is  kindness,  Mr.  Atlee,  — this  is  real  kind- 
ness. I  scarcely  thought  an  Englishman  would  have  the 
courage  to  call  upon  anything  so  unpopular  as  I  am." 

"  I  have  come  to  see  you  and  the  Parthenon,  Prince,  and 
I  have  begun  with  you." 

"  And  you  will  tell  them,  when  you  get  home,  that  I  am 
not  the  terrible  revolutionist  they  think  me ;  that  I  am 
neither  Danton  nor  Felix  Pyat,  but  a  very  mild  and  rather 
tiresome  old  man,  whose  extreme  violence  goes  no  further 
than  believing  that  people  ought  to  be  masters  in  their  own 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  455 

house,  and  that  when  any  one  disputes  the  right,  the  best 
thing  is  to  throw  him  out  of  the  window." 

"  If  he  will  not  go  by  the  door,"  remarked  Atlee. 

*■ '  No,  I  would  not  give  him  the  chance  of  the  door.  Other- 
wise you  make  no  distinction  between  your  friends  and  your 
enemies.  It  is  by  the  mild  methods  —  what  you  call  '  milk- 
and-water  methods  '  —  men  spoil  all  their  efforts  for  freedom. 
You  always  want  to  cut  off  somebody's  head  and  spill  no 
blood.  There's  the  mistake  of  those  Irish  rebels:  they  tell 
me  they  have  courage,  but  I  find  it  hard  to  believe  them." 

''  Do  believe  them,  then,  and  know  for  certain  that  there  is 
not  a  braver  people  in  Europe." 

'*  How  do  you  keep  them  down  then?  " 

''  You  must  not  ask  me  that,  for  I  am  one  of  them." 

''You  Irish?" 

*'  Yes,  Irish,  — very  Irish." 

*'Ah!  I  see.  Irish  in  an  English  sense?  Just  as  there 
are  Greeks  here  who  believe  in  Kulbash  Pasha,  and  would 
say,  Stay  at  home  and  till  your  currant-fields  and  mind  your 
coasting-trade.  Don't  try  to  be  civilized,  for  civilization  goes 
badly  with  brigandage,  and  scarcely  suits  trickery.  And  you 
are  aware,  Mr.  Atlee,  that  trickery  and  brigandage  are  more 
to  Greece  than  olives  or  dried  figs  ?  " 

There  was  that  of  mockery  in  the  way  he  said  this,  and 
the  little  smile  that  played  about  his  mouth  when  he  finished, 
that  left  Atlee  in  considerable  doubt  how  to  read  him. 

"I  study  your  newspapers,  Mr.  Atlee,"  resumed  he.  "I 
never  omit  to  read  your  '  Times,'  and  I  see  how  my  old 
acquaintance.  Lord  Danesbury,  has  been  making  Turkey  out 
of  Ireland !  It  is  so  hard  to  persuade  an  old  ambassador 
that  you  cannot  do  everything  by  corruption !  " 

"  I  scarcely  think  you  do  him  justice." 

"  Poor  Danesbury !  "  ejaculated  he,  sorrowfully. 

''  You  opine  that  his  policy  is  a  mistake?  " 

"  Poor  Danesbury !  "  said  he  again. 

"  He  is  one  of  our  ablest  men,  notwithstanding.  At  this 
moment  we  have  not  his  superior  in  anything." 

' '  I  was  going  to  say.  Poor  Danesbury !  but  I  now  say, 
Poor  England !  " 

Atlee  bit  his  lips  with  anger  at  the  sarcasm,  but  went  on, 


OF   THE 


UNIVERSITY 


456  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  I  infer  you  are  not  aware  of  the  exact  share  subordi- 
nates have  had  in  what  you  call  Lord  Danesbury's  Irish 
blunders  —  " 

"  Pardon  my  interrupting  you,  but  a  really  able  man  has 
no  subordinates.  His  inferior  agents  are  so  thoroughly 
absorbed  by  his  own  individuality  that  they  have  no  wills, 
no  instincts,  and  therefore  they  can  do  no  indiscretions. 
They  are  the  simple  emanations  of  himself  in  action." 

''  In  Turkey,  perhaps,"  said  Atlee,  with  a  smile. 

''  If  in  Turkey,  why  not  in  England,  or,  at  least,  in  Ireland? 
If  you  are  well  served,  —  and  mind,  you  must  be  well  served, 
or  you  are  powerless,  —  you  can  always  in  political  life  see 
the  adversary's  hand.  That  he  sees  yours,  is  of  course  true  : 
the  great  question  then  is,  how  much  you  mean  to  mislead  him 
by  the  showing  it?  I  give  you  an  instance:  Lord  Danes- 
bury's cleverest  stroke  in  policy  here,  the  one  hit  probably 
he  made  in  the  East,  was  to  have  a  private  correspondence 
with  the  Khedive  made  known  to  the  Russian  Embassy,  and 
induce  Gortschakoff  to  believe  that  he  could  not  trust  the 
Pasha!  All  the  Russian  preparations  to  move  down  on 
the  Provinces  were  countermanded.  The  stores  of  grain 
that  were  being  made  on  the  Pruth  were  arrested,  and 
three,  nearly  four  weeks  elapsed  before  the  mistake  was 
discovered,  and  in  that  interval  England  had  reinforced 
the  squadron  at  Malta,  and  taken  steps  to  encourage 
Turkey,  —  always  to  be  done  by  money,  or  promise  of 
money." 

''  It  was  a  coup  of  great  adroitness,"  said  Atlee. 

"  It  was  more,"  cried  the  Greek,  with  elation.  "  It  was  a 
move  of  such  subtlety  as  smacks  of  something  higher  than 
the  Saxon !  The  men  who  do  these  things  have  the  instinct 
of  their  craft.  It  is  theirs  to  understand  that  chemistry  of 
human  motives  by  which  a  certain  combination  results  in 
effects  totally  remote  from  the  agents  that  produce  it.  Can 
you  follow  me?" 

"I  believe  I  can." 

"I  would  rather  say,  Is  my  attempt  at  an  explanation 
sufficiently  clear  to  be  intelligible?" 

Atlee  looked  fixedly  at  him,  and  he  could  do  so  unobserved, 
for  the  other  was  now  occupied  in  preparing  his  pipe,  without 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  457 

minding  the  question.  Therefore  Atlee  set  himself  to  study 
the  features  before  him.  It  was  evident  enough,  from  the 
intensity  of  his  gaze  and  a  certain  trembling  of  his  upper 
lip,  that  the  scrutiny  cost  him  no  common  effort.  It  was,  in 
fact,  the  effort  to  divine  what,  if  he  mistook  to  read  aright, 
would  be  an  irreparable  blunder. 

With  the  long-drawn  inspiration  a  man  makes  before  he 
adventures  a  daring  feat,  he  said:  ''It  is  time  I  should  be 
candid  with  you.  Prince.  It  is  time  I  should  tell  you  that  I 
am  in  Greece  only  to  see  you.'' 

"  To  see  me?  "  said  the  other,  and  a  very  faint  flush  passed 
across  his  face. 

"To  see  you,"  said  Atlee,  slowly,  while  he  drew  out  a 
pocket-book  and  took  from  it  a  letter.  "  This,"  said  he, 
handing  it,  "is  to  your  address."  The  words  on  the  cover 
were  M.  Spiridionides. 

"I  am  Spiridion  Kostalergi,  and  by  birth  a  Prince  of 
Delos,"  said  the  Greek,  waving  back  the  letter. 

"  I  am  well  aware  of  that,  and  it  is  only  in  perfect  confi- 
dence that  I  venture  to  recall  a  past  that  your  Excellency  will 
see  I  respect ;  "  and  Atlee  spoke  with  an  air  of  deference. 

"  The  antecedents  of  the  men  who  serve  this  country  are 
not  to  be  measured  by  the  artificial  habits  of  a  people  who 
regulate  condition  by  money.  Your  statesmen  have  no  need 
to  be  journalists,  teachers,  tutors ;  Frenchmen  and  Italians 
are  all  these,  and  on  the  Lower  Danube  and  in  Greece  we  are 
these  and  something  more.  Nor  are  we  less  politicians  that 
we  are  more  men  of  the  world.  The  little  of  statecraft  that 
French  Emperor  ever  knew,  he  picked  up  in  his  days  of 
exile."  All  this  he  blurted  out  in  short  and  passionate 
bursts,  like  an  angry  man  who  was  trying  to  be  logical  in 
his  anger,  and  to  make  an  effort  of  reason  subdue  his 
wrath. 

"If  I  had  not  understood  these  things  as  you  yourself 
understand  them,  I  should  not  have  been  so  indiscreet  as 
to  offer  you  that  letter ;  "  and  once  more  he  proffered  it. 

This  time  the  Greek  took  it,  tore  open  the  envelope,  and 
read  it  through. 

"  It  is  from  Lord  Danesbury,"  said  he,  at  length.  "  When 
we  parted  last  I  was,  in  a  certain  sense,  my  Lord's  subor- 


458  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

dinate,  —  that  is,  there  were  things  none  of  his  staff  of 
secretaries  or  attaches  or  dragomen  could  do,  and  I  could 
do  them.  Times  are  changed ;  and  if  we  are  to  meet  again, 
it  will  be  as  colleagues.  It  is  true,  Mr.  Atlee,  the  Ambassa- 
dor of  England  and  the  Envoy  of  Greece  are  not  exactly  of 
the  same  rank.  I  do  not  permit  myself  many  illusions, 
and  this  is  not  one  of  them;  but  remember,  if  Great  Britain 
be  a  first-rate  power,  Greece  is  a  volcano.  It  is  for  us  to 
say  when  there  shall  be  an  eruption." 

It  was  evident,  from  the  rambling  tenor  of  this  speech, 
he  was  speaking  rather  to  conceal  his  thoughts  and  give 
himself  time  for  reflection,  than  to  enunciate  any  definite 
opinion ;  and  so  Atlee,  with  native  acuteness,  read  him,  as 
he  simply  bowed  a  cold  assent. 

"Why  should  I  give  him  back  his  letters?"  burst  out  the 
Greek,  warmly.  "What  does  he  offer  me  in  exchange  for 
them?  Money!  mere  money!  By  what  presumption  does 
he  assume  that  I  must  be  in  such  want  of  money  that  the 
only  question  should  be  the  sum?  May  not  the  time  come 
when  I  shall  be  questioned  in  our  chamber  as  to  certain 
matters  of  policy,  and  my  only  vindication  be  the  documents 
of  this  same  English  ambassador,  written  in  his  own  hand, 
and  signed  with  his  name?  Will  you  tell  me  that  the  trium- 
phant assertion  of  a  man's  honor  is  not  more  to  him  than 
bank-notes?" 

Though  the  heroic  spirit  of  this  speech  went  but  a  short 
way  to  deceive  Atlee,  who  only  read  it  as  a  plea  for  a 
higher  price,  it  was  his  policy  to  seem  to  believe  every  word 
of  it,  and  he  looked  a  perfect  picture  of  quiet  conviction. 

"You  little  suspect  what  these  letters  are?"  said  the 
Greek. 

"I  believe  I  know;  I  rather  think  I  have  a  catalogue  of 
them  and  their  contents,"  mildly  hinted  the  other. 

"Ah,  indeed!  and  are  you  prepared  to  vouch  for  the 
accuracy  and  completeness  of  your  list?" 

"You  must  be  aware  it  is  only  my  Lord  himself  can 
answer  that  question." 

"  Is  there  —  in  your  enumeration  —  is  there  the  letter 
about  Crete,  and  the  false  news  that  deceived  the  Baron 
de   Baude?     Is    there   the  note  of   my  instructions  to  the 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  459 

Khedive?  Is  there  —  I  'm  sure  there  is  not  —  any  mention 
of  the  negotiation  with  Stephanotis  Bey  ?  " 

"I  have  seen  Stephanotis  myself;  I  have  just  come  from 
him,"  said  Atlee,  grasping  at  the  escape  the  name  offered. 

''Ah,  you  know  the  old  Palikao?  " 

"Intimately;  we  are,  I  hope,  close  friends;  he  was  at 
Kulbash  Pasha's  while  I  was  there,  and  we  had  much  talk 
together." 

"And  from  him  it  was  you  learned  that  Spiridionides  was 
Spiridion  Kostalergi?"  said  the  Greek,  slowly. 

"Surely  this  is  not  meant  as  a  question;  or,  at  least, 
a  question  to  be  answered?"    said  Atlee,  smiling. 

"No,  no,  of  course  not,"  replied  the  other,  politely.  "We 
are  chatting  together,  if  not  like  old  friends,  like  men  who 
have  every  element  to  become  dear  friends.  We  see  life 
pretty  much  from  the  same  point  of  view,  Mr.  Atlee,  is  it 
not  so?" 

"It  would  be  a  great  flattery  to  me  to  think  it."  And 
Joe's  eyes  sparkled  as  he  spoke. 

"One  has  to  make  his  choice  somewhat  early  in  the  world, 
whether  he  will  hunt  or  be  hunted ;  I  believe  that  is  about 
the  case." 

"X  suspect  so." 

"I  did  not  take  long  to  decide;  /took  my  place  with  the 
wolves ! "  Nothing  could  be  more  quietly  uttered  than 
these  words;  but  there  was  a  savage  ferocity  in  his  look  as 
he  said  them  that  held  Atlee  almost  spell-bound.  "And 
you,  Mr.  Atlee?  and  you?  I  need  scarcely  ask  where  your 
choice  fell ! " 

It  was  so  palpable  that  the  words  meant  a  compliment, 
Atlee  had  only  to  smile  a  polite  acceptance  of  them. 

"These  letters,"  said  the  Greek,  resuming,  and  like  one 
who  had  not  mentally  lapsed  from  the  theme, —  "  these  letters 
are  all  that  my  Lord  deems  them.  •  They  are  the  very  stuff 
that,  in  your  country  of  publicity  and  free  discussion, 
would  make  or  mar  the  very  best  reputations  amongst  you. 
And,"  added  he,  after  a  pause,  "there  are  none  of  them 
destroyed,  —  none !  " 

*''He  is  aware  of  that." 

"  No,  he  is  not  aware  of  it  to  the  extent  I  speak  of ;  for 


460  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

many  of  the  documents  that  he  believed  he  saw  burned  in 
his  own  presence,  on  his  own  hearth,  are  here,  —  here  in 
the  room  we  sit  in!  So  that  I  am  in  the  proud  position  of 
being  able  to  vindicate  his  policy  in  many  cases  where  his 
memory  might  prove  weak  or  fallacious." 

"Although  I  know  Lord  Danesbury's  value  for  these 
papers  does  not  bear  out  your  own,  I  will  not  suffer  myself 
to  discuss  the  point.  I  return  at  once  to  what  I  have  come 
for.  Shall  I  make  you  an  offer  in  money  for  them,  Monsieur 
Kostalergi  ?  " 

''What  is  the  amount  you  propose?  " 

"I  was  to  negotiate  for  a  thousand  pounds  first.  I  was 
to  give  two  thousand  at  the  last  resort.  I  will  begin  at  the 
last  resort  and  pay  you  two." 

"Why  not  piastres,  Mr.  Atlee?  I  am  sure  your  instruc- 
tions must  have  said  piastres." 

Quite  unmoved  by  the  sarcasm,  Atlee  took  out  his  pocket- 
book  and  read  from  a  memorandum:  "  Should  M.  Kostalergi 
refuse  your  offer,  or  think  it  insufficient,  on  no  account  let 
the  negotiation  take  any  turn  of  acrimony  or  recrimination. 
He  has  rendered  me  great  services  in  past  times,  and  it  will 
be  for  himself  to  determine  whether  he  should  do  or  say 
what  should  in  any  way  bar  our  future  relations  together." 

"This  is  not  a  menace?  "  said  the  Greek,  smiling  super- 
ciliously. 

"No.  It  is  simply  an  instruction,"  said  the  other,  after 
a  slight  hesitation. 

"The  men  who  make  a  trade  of  diplomacy,"  said  the 
Greek,  haughtily,  "reserve  it  for  their  dealings  with  Cabi- 
nets. In  home  or  familiar  intercourse  they  are  straightfor- 
ward and  simple.  Without  these  papers  your  noble  master 
cannot  return  to  Turkey  as  ambassador.  Do  not  interrupt 
me.  He  cannot  come  back  as  ambassador  to  the  Porte !  It 
is  for  him  to  say  how  he  estimates  the  post.  An  ambitious 
man,  with  ample  reason  for  his  ambition,  an  able  man  with 
a  thorough  conviction  of  his  ability,  a  patriotic  man,  who 
understood  and  saw  the  services  he  could  render  to  his 
country,  would  not  bargain  at  the  price  the  place  should 
cost  him,  nor  say  ten  thousand  pounds  too  much  to  pay 
for  it." 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  461 

"Ten  thousand  pounds!"  exclaimed  Atlee,  but  in  I'eal 
and  unfeigned  astonishment. 

"  I  have  said  ten  thousand,  and  I  will  not  say  nine,  — 
nor  nine  thousand  nine  hundred." 

Atlee  slowly  arose  and  took  his  hat. 

''I  have  too  much  respect  for  yourself  and  for  your  time, 
M.  Kostalergi,  to  impose  any  longer  on  your  leisure.  I 
have  no  need  to  say  that  your  proposal  is  totally  unac- 
ceptable." 

"  You  have  not  heard  it  all,  sir.  The  money  is  but  a  part 
of  what  I  insist  on.  I  shall  demand,  besides,  that  the 
British  Ambassador  at  Constantinople  shall  formally  sup- 
port my  claim  to  be  received  as  Envoy  from  Greece,  and 
that  the  whole  might  of  England  be  pledged  to  the  ratifica- 
tion of  my  appointment." 

A  very  cold  but  not  uncourteous  smile  was  all  Atlee' s 
acknowledgment  of  this  speech. 

"There  are  small  details  which  regard  my  title  and  the 
rank  that  I  lay  claim  to.  With  these  I  do  not  trouble  you. 
I  will  merely  say  I  reserve  them  if  we  should  discuss  this  in 
future." 

"Of  that  there  is  little  prospect.  Indeed,  I  see  none 
whatever.  I  may  say  this  much,  however,  Prince,  that  I 
shall  most  willingly  undertake  to  place  your  claims  to  be 
received  as  Minister  for  Greece  at  the  Porte  under  Lord 
Danesbury's  notice,  and,  I  have  every  hope,  for  favorable 
consideration.  We  are  not  likely  to  meet  again;  may  I 
assume  that  we  part  friends  ?  " 

"You  only  anticipate  my  own  sincere  desire." 

As  they  passed  slowly  through  the  garden,  Atlee  stopped 
and  said:  "Had  I  been  able  to  tell  my  Lord,  '  The  Prince  is 
just  named  special  envoy  at  Constantinople.  The  Turks 
are  offended  at  something  he  has  done  in  Crete  or  Thessaly. 
Without  certain  pressure  on  the  Divan  they  will  not  receive 
him.  Will  your  Lordship  empower  me  to  say  that  you  will 
undertake  this,  and,  moreover,  enable  me  to  assure  him  that 
all  the  cost  and  expenditure  of  his  outfit  shall  be  met  in  a 
suitable  form?'  If,  in  fact,  you  give  me  your  permission 
to  submit  such  a  basis  as  this,  I  should  leave  Athens  far 
happier  than  I  feel  now." 


462  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

"  The  Chamber  has  already  voted  the  outfit.  It  is  very 
modest,  but  it  is  enough.  Our  national  resources  are  at  a 
low  ebb.  You  might,  indeed,  —  that  is,  if  you  still  wished 
to  plead  my  cause,  —  you  might  tell  my  Lord  that  I  had 
destined  this  sum  as  the  fortune  of  my  daughter.  I  have  a 
daughter,  Mr.  Atlee,  and  at  present  sojourning  in  your  own 
country.  And  though  at  one  time  I  was  minded  to  recall 
her,  and  take  her  with  me  to  Turkey,  I  have  grown  to  doubt 
whether  it  would  be  a  wise  policy.  Our  Greek  contingen- 
cies are  too  many  and  too  sudden  to  let  us  project  very  far 
in  life." 

"Strange  enough,"  said  Atlee,  thoughtfully,  "you  have 
just  —  as  it  were,  by  mere  hazard  —  struck  the  one  chord  in 
the  English  nature  that  will  always  respond  to  the  appeal  of 
a  home  affection.  Were  I  to  say,  '  Do  you  know  why 
Kostalergi  makes  so  hard  a  bargain?  It  is  to  endow  a 
daughter.  It  is  the  sole  provision  he  stipulates  to  make 
her,  —  Greek  statesmen  can  amass  no  fortunes ;  this  hazard 
will  secure  the  girl's  future! '  On  my  life,  I  cannot  think 
of  one  argument  that  would  have  equal  weight." 

Kostalergi  smiled  faintly,  but  did  not  speak. 

"Lord  Danesbury  never  married;  but  I  know  with  what 
interest  and  affection  he  follows  the  fortunes  of  men  who 
live  to  secure  the  happiness  of  their  children :  it  is  the  one 
plea  he  could  not  resist.  To  be  sure,  he  might  say,  '  Kosta- 
lergi told  you  this,  and  perhaps  at  the  time  he  himself 
believed  it;  but  how  can  a  man  who  likes  the  world  and  its 
very  costliest  pleasures  guard  himself  against  his  own 
habits?  Who  is  to  pledge  his  honor  that  the  girl  will  ever 
be  the  owner  of  this  sum  ?  '  " 

"I  shall  place  that  beyond  a  cavil  or  a  question;  he  shall 
be  himself  her  guardian.  The  money  shall  not  leave  his 
hands  till  she  marries.  You  have  your  own  laws,  by  w^hich 
a  man  can  charge  his  estate  with  the  payment  of  a  certain 
amount.  My  Lord,  if  he  assents  to  this,  will  know  how  it 
may  be  done.  I  repeat,  I  do  not  desire  to  touch  a  drachma 
of  the  sum." 

"You  interest  me  immensely.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
intensely  I  feel  interested  in  all  this.  In  fact,  I  shall  own 
to  you,  frankly,  that  you  have  at  last  employed  an  argu- 


GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  463 

ment  I  do  not  know  how,  even  if  I  wished,  to  answer. 
Am  I  at  liberty  to  state  this  pretty  much  as  you  have 
told  it?" 

"Every  word  of  it." 

"Will  you  go  further;  will  you  give  me  a  little  line,  a 
memorandum  in  your  own  hand,  to  show  that  I  do  not  mis- 
state nor  mistake  you,  —  that  I  have  your  meaning  cor- 
rectly, and  without  even  a  chance  of  error?" 

"I  will  write  it  formally  and  deliberately." 

The  bell  of  the  outer  door  rang  at  the  moment.  It  was  a 
telegraphic  message  to  Atlee,  to  say  that  the  steamer  had 
perfected  her  repairs  and  would  sail  that  evening. 

"You  mean  to  sail  with  her?"  asked  the  Greek.  "Well, 
within  an  hour  you  shall  have  my  packet.  Good-bye.  I 
have  no  doubt  we  shall  hear  of  each  other  again." 

"I  think  I  could  venture  to  bet  on  it,"  were  Atlee' s  last 
words  as  he  turned  away. 


CHAPTER   LXV. 


Lord  Danesbury  had  arrived  at  Bruton  Street  to  confer 
with  certain  members  of  the  Cabinet  who  remained  in  town 
after  the  session,  chiefly  to  consult  with  him.  He  was 
accompanied  by  his  niece,  Lady  Maude,  and  by  Walpole; 
the  latter  continuing  to  reside  under  his  roof,  rather  from 
old  habit  than  from  any  strong  wish  on  either  side. 

Walpole  had  obtained  a  short  extension  of  his  leave,  and 
employed  the  time  in  endeavoring  to  make  up  his  mind 
about  a  certain  letter  to  Nina  Kostalergi,  which  he  had 
written  nearly  fifty  times  in  different  versions  and  destroyed. 
Neither  his  Lordship  nor  his  niece  ever  saw  him.  They 
knew  he  had  a  room  or  two  somewhere ;  a  servant  was  occa- 
sionally encountered  on  the  way  to  him  with  a  breakfast- 
tray  and  an  urn ;  his  letters  were  seen  on  the  hall-table ;  but, 
except  these,  he  gave  no  signs  of  life,  —  never  appeared  at 
luncheon  or  at  dinner,  and  as  much  dropped  out  of  all 
memory  or  interest  as  though  he  had  ceased  to  be. 

It  was  one  evening,  yet  early,  —  scarcely  eleven  o'clock, 
—  as  Lord  Danesbury's  little  party  of  four  Cabinet  chiefs 
had  just  departed,  that  he  sat  at  the  drawing-room  fire  with 
Lady  Maude,  chatting  over  the  events  of  the  evening's  con- 
versation, and  discussing,  as  men  will  do  at  times,  the  char- 
acters of  their  guests. 

"It  has  been  nearly  as  tiresome  as  a  Cabinet  Council, 
Maude!"  said  he,  with  a  sigh,  ''and  not  unlike  it  in  one 
thing,  —  it  was  almost  always  the  men  who  knew  least  of 
any  matter  who  discussed  it  most  exhaustively." 

"  I  conclude  you  know  what  you  are  going  out  to  do,  my 
Lord,  and  do  not  care  to  hear  the  desultory  notions  of 
people  who  know  nothing." 


"IN  TOWN."  465 

"Just  so.  What  could  a  First  Lord  tell  me  about  those 
Russian  intrigues  in  Albania ;  or  is  it  likely  that  a  Home 
Secretary  is  aware  of  what  is  preparing  in  Montenegro? 
They  get  hold  of  some  crotchet  in  the  '  Revue  de  Deux 
Mondes, '  and,  assuming  it  all  to  be  true,  they  ask  defiantly, 
'  How  are  you  going  to  deal  with  that?  Why  did  you  not 
foresee  the  other?'  and  such  like.  How  little  they  know, 
as  that  fellow  Atlee  says,  that  a  man  evolves  his  Turkey 
out  of  the  necessities  of  his  pocket,  and  captures  his  Con- 
stantinople to  pay  for  a  dinner  at  the  '  Freres  ' !  What  fleets 
of  Russian  gunboats  have  I  seen  launched  to  procure  a  few 
bottles  of  champagne !  I  remember  a  chasse  of  Kersch,  with 
the  cafe,  costing  a  whole  battery  of  Krupp's  breech- 
loaders !  " 

''Are  our  own  journals  more  correct?  " 

"They  are  more  cautious,  Maude, — far  more  cautious. 
Nine  days'  wonders  with  us  w^ould  be  too  costly.  Nothing 
must  be  risked  that  can  affect  the  funds.  The  share-list  is 
too  solemn  a  thing  for  joking." 

''The  Premier  was  very  silent  to-night,"  said  she,  after  a 
pause. 

"He  generally  is  in  company;  he  looks  like  a  man  bored 
at  being  obliged  to  listen  to  people  saying  the  things  that 
he  knows  as  well,  and  could  tell  better  than  they  do." 

"How  completely  he  appears  to  have  forgiven  or  for- 
gotten the  Irish  fiasco  !  " 

"Of  course  he  has.  An  extra  blunder  in  the  conduct  of 
Irish  affairs  is  only  like  an  additional  mask  in  a  fancy  ball, 
—  the  whole  thing  is  motley;  and  asking  for  consistency 
would  be  like  requesting  the  company  to  behave  like 
archdeacons." 

"And  so  the  mischief  has  blown  over?  " 

"In  a  measure  it  has.  The  Opposition  quarrelled 
amongst  themselves;  and  such  as  were  not  ready  to  take 
office  if  we  were  beaten  declined  to  press  the  motion.  The 
irresponsibles  went  on,  as  they  always  do,  to  their  own 
destruction.  They  became  violent,  and,  of  course,  our 
people  appealed  against  the  violence,  and  with  such  temper- 
ate language  and  good  breeding  that  we  carried  the  House 
with  us." 

30 


466  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

*'I  see  there  was  quite  a  sensation  about  the  word 
*  villain.'" 

"No;  'miscreant.'  It  was  'miscreant,' — a  word  very 
popular  in  O'Connell's  day,  but  rather  obsolete  now.  When 
the  Speaker  called  on  the  member  for  an  apology,  we  had 
won  the  day!  These  rash  utterances  in  debate  are  the 
explosive  balls  that  no  one  must  use  in  battle;  and  if  we 
only  discover  one  in  a  fellow's  pouch,  we  discredit  the  whole 
army." 

"I  forget;  did  they  press  for  a  division?  " 

"No;  we  stopped  them.  We  agreed  to  give  them  a 
'  special  committee  to  inquire.'  Of  all  devices  for  secrecy 
invented,  I  know  of  none  like  a  '  special  committee  of  in- 
quiry.' Whatever  people  have  known  beforehand,  their 
faith  will  now  be  shaken  in,  and  every  possible  or  acci- 
dental contingency  assume  a  shape,  a  size,  and  a  stability 
beyond  all  belief.  They  have  got  their  committee,  and  I 
wish  them  luck  of  it!  The  only  men  who  could  tell  them 
anything  will  take  care  not  to  criminate  themselves,  and  the 
report  will  be  a  plaintive  cry  over  a  country  where  so  few 
people  can  be  persuaded  to  tell  the  truth,  and  nobody  should 
seem  any  worse  in  consequence." 

"Cecil  certainly  did  it,"  said  she,  with  a  certain  bitter- 
ness. 

"I  suppose  he  did.  These  young  players  are  always 
thinking  of  scoring  eight  or  ten  on  a  single  hazard;  one 
should  never  back  them !  " 

"Mr.  Atlee  said  there  was  some  female  influence  at  work. 
He  would  not  tell  what  nor  whom.  Possibly  he  did  not 
know." 

"I  rather  suspect  he  did  know.  They  were  people,  if  T 
mistake  not,  belonging  to  that  Irish  castle,  —  Kil  —  Kil- 
somebody,  or  Kil-something." 

"Was  Walpole  flirting  there?  was  he  going  to  marry  one 
of  them?" 

"Flirting,  I  take  it,  must  have  been  the  extent  of  the 
folly.  Cecil  often  said  he  could  not  marry  Irish.  I  have 
known  men  do  it!  You  are  aware,  Maude,"  and  here  he 
looked  with  uncommon  gravity,  "the  penal  laws  have  all 
been  repealed." 


"IN  TOWN."  467 

"I  was  speaking  of  society,  my  Lord,  not  the  statutes,'* 
said  she,  resentfully,  and  half  suspicious  of  a  sly  jest. 

"Had  she  money?"  asked  he,  curtly. 

"I  cannot  tell;  I  know  nothing  of  these  people  whatever! 
I  remember  something  —  it  was  a  newspaper  story  —  of 
a  girl  that  saved  Cecil's  life  by  throwing  herself  before  him; 
a  very  pretty  incident  it  was.  But  these  things  make  no 
figure  in  a  settlement;  and  a  woman  may  be  as  bold  as 
Joan  of  Arc  and  not  have  sixpence.  Atlee  says  you  can 
always  settle  the  courage  on  the  younger  children." 

"Atlee 's  an  arrant  scamp,"  said  my  Lord,  laughing. 
"He  should  have  written  some  days  since." 

"  I  suppose  he  is  too  late  for  the  borough ;  the  Cradf ord 
election  comes  on  next  week  ?  "  Though  there  could  not 
be  anything  more  languidly  indifferent  than  her  voice  in 
this  question,  a  faint  pinkish  tinge  flitted  across  her  cheek, 
and  left  it  colorless  as  before. 

"Yes,  he  has  his  address  out,  and  there  is  a  sort  of  com- 
mittee —  certain  licensed-victualler  people  —  to  whom  he 
has  been  promising  some  especial  Sabbath-breaking  that 
they  yearn  after.     I  have  not  read  it." 

"I  have ;  and  it  is  cleverly  written,  and  there  is  little  more 
radical  in  it  than  we  heard  this  very  day  at  dinner.  He 
tells  the  electors,  '  You  are  no  more  bound  to  the  support  of 
an  army  or  a  navy,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  fight,  than  to 
maintain  the  College  of  Surgeons  or  Physicians,  if  you 
object  to  take  physic'  He  says,  '  To  tell  me  that  I,  with 
eight  shillings  a  week,  have  an  equal  interest  in  resisting 
invasion  as  your  Lord  Dido,  with  eighty  thousand  per 
annum,  is  simply  nonsense.  If  you, '  cries  he  to  one  of  his 
supporters,  '  were  to  be  offered  your  life  by  a  highwayman 
on  surrendering  some  few  pence  or  halfpence  you  carried 
in  yoitr  pocket,  you  do  not  mean  to  dictate  what  my  Lord 
Marquis  might  do,  who  has  got  a  gold  watch  and  a  pocket- 
ful of  notes  in  his.  And  so  I  say  once  more,  let  the  rich 
pay  for  the  defence  of  what  they  value.  You  and  I  have 
nothing  worth  fighting  for,  and  we  will  not  fight.  Then  as 
to  religion  — '  " 

"Oh,  spare  me  his  theology!  I  can  almost  imagine  it, 
Maude.     I  had  no  conception  he  was  such  a  radical." 


468  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

''He  is  not  really,  my  Lord;  but  he  tells  me  that  we  must 
all  go  through  this  stage.  It  is,  as  he  says,  like  a  course 
of  those  waters  whose  benefit  is  exactly  in  proportion  to  the 
way  they  disagree  with  you  at  first.  He  even  said,  one 
evening  before  he  went  away,  '  Take  my  word  for  it.  Lady 
Maude,  we  shall  be  burning  these  apostles  of  ballot  and 
universal  suffrage  in  effigy  one  day;  but  I  intend  to  go 
beyond  every  one  else  in  the  mean  while,  else  the  rebound 
back  will  lose  half  its  excellence. '  " 

"What  is  this?  "cried  he,  as  the  servant  entered  with  a 
telegram.  "This  is  from  Athens,  Maude,  and  in  cipher 
too.     How  are  we  to  make  it  out?  " 

"Cecil  has  the  key,  my  Lord.  It  is  the  diplomatic 
cipher." 

"Do  you  think  you  could  find  it  in  his  room,  Maude?  It 
is  possible  this  might  be  imminent." 

"I  shall  see  if  he  is  at  home,"  said  she,  rising  to  ring  the 
bell.  The  servant  sent  to  inquire  returned,  saying  that 
Mr.  Walpole  had  dined  abroad,  and  not  returned  since 
dinner. 

"I  'm  sure  you  could  find  the  book,  Maude;  and  it  is  a 
small,  square-shaped  volume,  bound  in  dark  Russia  leather, 
marked  with  F.  O.  on  the  cover." 

"I  know  the  look  of  it  well  enough;  but  I  do  not  fancy 
ransacking  Cecil's  chamber." 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  should  like  to  await  his  return  to 
read  my  despatch.  I  can  just  make  out  that  it  comes  from 
Atlee." 

"I  suppose  I  had  better  go,  then,"  said  she,  reluctantly, 
as  she  rose  and  left  the  room. 

Ordering  the  butler  to  precede  and  show  her  the  way. 
Lady  Maude  ascended  to  a  story  above  that  she  usually 
inhabited,  and  found  herself  in  a  very  spacious  chamber, 
with  an  alcove,  into  which  a  bed  fitted,  the  remaining  space 
being  arranged  like  an  ordinary  sitting-room.  There 
were  numerous  chairs  and  sofas  of  comfortable  form,  a 
well-cushioned  ottoman,  smelling,  indeed,  villanously  of 
tobacco,  and  a  neat  writing-table,  with  a  most  luxurious 
arrangement  of  shaded  waxlights  above  it. 

A  singularly  well-executed  photograph  of   a  young  and 


"IN  TOWN."  469 

very  lovely  woman,  with  masses  of  loose  hair  flowing  over 
her  neck  and  shoulders,  stood  on  a  little  easel  on  the  desk ; 
and  it  was,  strange  enough,  with  a  sense  of  actual  relief, 
Maude  read  the  word  Titian  on  the  frame.  It  was  a  copy 
of  the  great  master's  picture  in  the  Dresden  Gallery,  and  of 
which  there  is  a  replica  in  the  Barberini  Palace  at  Rome; 
but  still  the  portrait  had  another  memory  for  Lady  Maude, 
who  quickly  recalled  the  girl  she  had  once  seen  in  a  crowded 
assembly,  passing  through  a  murmur  of  admiration  that  no 
conventionality  could  repress,  and  whose  marvellous  beauty 
seemed  to  glow  with  the  homage  it  inspired. 

Scraps  of  poetry,  copies  of  verses,  changed  and  blotted 
couplets,  were  scrawled  on  loose  sheets  of  paper  on  the 
desk;  but  Maude  minded  none  of  these,  as  she  pushed  them 
away  to  rest  her  arm  on  the  table,  while  she  sat  gazing  on 
the  picture. 

The  face  had  so  completely  absorbed  her  attention  —  so, 
to  say,  fascinated  her  —  that  when  the  servant  had  found 
the  volume  he  was  in  search  of,  and  presented  it  to  her,  she 
merely  said,  "Take  it  to  my  Lord,"  and  sat  still,  with  her 
head  resting  on  her  hands,  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
portrait. 

"There  may  be  some  resemblance;  there  may  be,  at 
least,  what  might  remind  people  of  '  the  Laura,'  —  so  was  it 
called ;  but  who  will  pretend  that  she  carried  her  head  with 
that  swing  of  lofty  pride,  or  that  her  look  could  rival  the 
blended  majesty  and  womanhood  we  see  here!  I  do  not  — 
I  cannot  believe  it!  " 

"What  is  it,  Maude,  that  you  will  not  or  cannot  believe?  " 
said  a  low  voice;  and  she  saw  Walpole  standing  beside  her. 

"Let  me  first  excuse  myself  for  being  here,"  said  she, 
blushing.  "  I  came  in  search  of  that  little  cipher-book  to 
interpret  a  despatch  that  has  just  come.  When  Fenton 
found  it,  I  was  so  engrossed  by  this  pretty  face  that  I  have 
done  nothing  but  gaze  at  it." 

"And  what  was  it  that  seemed  so  incredible  as  I  came  in?  " 

"Simply  this,  then,  that  any  one  should  be  so  beautiful." 

"Titian  seems  to  have  solved  that  point;  at  least,  Vasari 
tells  us  this  was  a  portrait  of  a  lady  of  the  Guicciardini 
family." 


470  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

"I  know, — I  know  that,"  said  she,  impatiently;  "and 
we  do  see  faces  in  which  Titian  or  Velasquez  have  stamped 
nobility  and  birth  as  palpably  as  they  have  printed  loveli- 
ness and  expression.  And  such  were  these  women,  daugh- 
ters in  a  long  line  of  the  proud  Patricians  who  once  ruled 
Eome." 

"  And  yet,"  said  he,  slowly,  "that  portrait  has  its  living 
counterpart." 

''  I  am  aware  of  whom  you  speak;  the  awkward  angular 
girl  we  all  saw  at  Rome,  and  that  young  gentlemen  called 
the  Tizziana." 

"  She  is  certainly  no  longer  awkward  nor  angular  now, 
if  she  were  once  so,  which  I  do  not  remember.  She  is  a 
model  of  grace  and  symmetry,  and  as  much  more  beautiful 
than  that  picture  as  color,  expression,  and  movement  are 
better  than  a  lifeless  image." 

"There  is  the  fervor  of  a  lover  in  your  words,  Cecil," 
said  she,  smiling  faintly. 

"It  is  not  often  I  am  so  forgetful,"  muttered  he ;  "  but  so 
it  is,  our  cousinship  has  done  it  all,  Maude.  One  revels  in 
expansiveness  with  his  own,  and  I  can  speak  to  you  as  I 
cannot  speak  to  another." 

"  It  is  a  great  flattery  to  me." 

"  In  fact,  I  feel  that  at  last  I  have  a  sister,  — a  dear  and 
loving  spirit  who  will  give  to  true  friendship  those  delightful 
traits  of  pity  and  tenderness,  and  even  forgiveness,  of  which 
only  the  woman's  nature  can  know  the  needs." 

Lady  Maude  rose  slowly,  without  a  word.  Nothing  of 
heightened  color  or  movement  of  her  features  indicated 
anger  or  indignation ;  and  though  Walpole  stood  with  an 
affected  submissiveness  before  her,  he  marked  her  closely. 

"I  am  sure,  Maude,"  continued  he,  "you  must  often 
have  wished  to  have  a  brother." 

"  Never  so  much  as  at  this  moment !  "  said  she,  calmly,  — 
and  now  she  had  reached  the  door.  "If  I  had  had  a 
brother,  Cecil  Walpole,  it  is  possible  I  might  have  been 
spared  this  insult !  " 

The  next  moment  the  door  closed,  and  Walpole  was  alone. 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 


ATLEE  S    MESSAGE. 


*'  I  AM  right,  Maude,"  said  Lord  Danesbury,  as  his  niece  re- 
entered the  drawing-room.  "  This  is  from  Atlee,  who  is  at 
Athens ;  but  why  there  I  cannot  make  out  as  yet.  There 
are,  according  to  the  book,  two  explanations  here.  491 
means  a  white  dromedary,  or  the  chief  clerk,  and  B  +  49  = 
12  stands  for  our  Envoy  in  Greece,  or  a  snuffer-dish." 

'^  Don't  you  think,  my  Lord,  it  would  be  better  for  you  to 
send  this  up  to  Cecil?  He  has  just  come  in.  He  has  had 
much  experience  of  these  things." 

*'You  are  quite  right,  Maude;  let  Fenton  take  it  up  and 
beg  for  a  speedy  transcript  of  it.  I  should  like  to  see  it  at 
once !  " 

While  his  Lordship  waited  for  his  despatch,  he  grumbled 
away  about  everything  that  occurred  to  him,  and  even,  at 
last,  about  the  presence  of  the  very  man,  Walpole,  who  was 
at  that  same  moment  engaged  in  serving  him. 

"Stupid  fellow,"  muttered  he,  "why  does  he  ask  for 
extension  of  his  leave  ?  Staying  in  town  here  is  only  another 
name  for  spending  money.  He'll  have  to  go  out  at  last; 
better  do  it  at  once !  " 

"  He  may  have  his  own  reasons,  my  Lord,  for  delay," 
said  Maude,  rather  to  suggest  further  discussion  of  the 
point. 

"He  may  think  he  has,  I've  no  doubt.  These  small 
creatures  have  always  scores  of  irons  in  the  fire.  So  it  was 
when  I  agreed  to  go  to  Ireland.  There  were  innumerable 
fine  things  and  clever  things  he  was  to  do.  There  were 
schemes  by  which  '  the  Cardinal'  was  to  be  cajoled,  and  the 
whole  Bar  bamboozled.  Every  one  was  to  have  office 
dangled  before  his  eyes,  and  to  be  treated  so  confidentially, 


472  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

and  affectionately,  under  disappointment,  that  even  when  a 
man  got  nothing  he  would  feel  he  had  secured  the  regard  of 
the  Prime  Minister  !  If  I  took  him  out  to  Turkey  to-morrow, 
he  *d  never  be  easy  till  he  had  a  plan  '  to  square '  the  Grand 
Vizier,  and  entrap  Gortchakoff  or  Miliutin.  These  men 
don't  know  that  a  clever  fellow  no  more  goes  in  search  of 
rogueries  than  a  fox-hunter  looks  out  for  stiff  fences.  You 
'take  them'  when  they  lie  before  you,  that's  all."  This 
little  burst  of  indignation  seemed  to  have  the  effect  on  him 
of  a  little  wholesome  exercise,  for  he  appeared  to  feel  him- 
self better  and  easier  after  it. 

"  Dear  me  !  dear  me !  "  muttered  he,  ''  how  pleasant  one's 
life  might  be  if  it  were  not  for  the  clever  fellows !  I  mean, 
of  course,"  added  he,  after  a  second  or  two,  ''  the  clever 
fellows  who  want  to  impress  us  with  their  cleverness." 

Maude  would  not  be  entrapped  or  enticed  into  what  might 
lead  to  a  discussion.  She  never  uttered  a  word,  and  he  was 
silent. 

It  was  in  the  perfect  stillness  that  followed  that  Walpole 
entered  the  room  with  the  telegram  in  his  hand,  and  advanced 
to  where  Lord  Danesbury  was  sitting. 

*'  I  believe,  my  Lord,  I  have  made  out  this  message  in  such 
a  shape  as  will  enable  you  to  divine  what  it  means.  It  runs 
thus  :  *  Athens,  5th,  12  o'clock.  Have  seen  S ,  and  con- 
ferred at  length  with  him.  His  estimate  of  value,*  or  '  his 
price '  —  for  the  signs  will  mean  either  —  '  to  my  thinking 
enormous.  His  reasonings  certainly  strong  and  not  easy  to 
rebut,*  That  may  be  possibly  rendered,  '  demands  that  might 
probably  be  reduced.*  '  /  leave  to-day,  and  shall  be  in  Eng- 
land by  middle  of  next  iveek. — Atlee.' " 

Walpole  looked  keenly  at  the  other's  face  as  he  read  the 
paper,  to  mark  what  signs  of  interest  and  eagerness  the 
tidings  might  evoke.  There  was,  however,  nothing  to  be 
read  in  those  cold  and  quiet  features. 

''I  am  glad  he  is  coming  back,"  said  he,  at  length. 
"Let  us  see  :  he  can  reach  Marseilles  by  Monday,  or  even 
Sunday  night.  I  don't  see  why  he  should  not  be  here 
Wednesday,  or  Thursday  at  farthest.  By  the  way,  Cecil,  tell 
me  something  about  our  friend,  —  who  is  he  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  my  Lord." 


ATLEE'S  MESSAGE.  473 

**  Don't  know !     How  came  you  acquainted  with  liim?  " 

"  Met  him  at  a  country-house,  where  I  happened  to  break 
my  arm,  and  took  advantage  of  this  young  fellow's  skill  in 
surgery  to  engage  his  services  to  carry  me  to  town.  There  's 
the  whole  of  it." 

''  Is  he  a  surgeon?" 

''  No,  my  Lord,  any  more  than  he  is  fifty  other  things,  of 
which  he  has  a  smattering." 

*'  Has  he  any  means,  — any  private  fortune?  " 

*'  I  suspect  not." 

''Who  and  what  are  his  family?  Are  there  Atlees  m 
Ireland?" 

"There  may  be,  my  Lord.  There  was  an  Atlee,  a 
college  porter,  in  Dublin;  but  I  heard  our  friend  say  that 
they  were  only  distantly  related." 

He  could  not  help  watching  Lady  Maude  as  he  said  this, 
and  was  rejoiced  to  see  a  sudden  twitch  of  her  lower  lip  as 
if  in  pain. 

"You  evidently  sent  him  over  to  me,  then,  on  a  very 
meagre  knowledge  of  the  man,"  said  his  Lordship,  rebuk- 
ingly. 

"  I  believe,  my  Lord,  I  said  at  the  time  that  I  had  by  me 
a  clever  fellow,  who  wrote  a  good  hand,  could  copy  correctly, 
and  was  sufficient  of  a  gentleman  in  his  manners  to  make 
intercourse  with  him  easy  and  not  disagreeable." 

"A  very  guarded  recommendation,"  said  Lady  Maude, 
with  a  smile. 

"Was  it  not,  Maude?"  continued  he,  his  eyes  flashing 
with  triumphant  insolence. 

"/  found  he  could  do  more  than  copy  a  despatch, — I 
found  he  could  write  one.  He  replied  to  an  article  in  the 
'  Edinburgh  '  on  Turkey,  and  I  saw  him  write  it  as  I  did  not 
know  there  was  another  man  but  myself  in  England  could 
have  done." 

"  Perhaps  your  Lordship  had  talked  over  the  subject  in 
his  presence  or  with  him  ?  " 

"  And  if  I  had,  sir !  and  if  all  his  knowledge  on  a  complex 
question  was  such  as  he  could  carry  away  from  a  random 
conversation,  what  a  gifted  dog  he  must  be  to  sift  the  wheat 
from  the  chaff,  —  to  strip  a  question  of  what  were  mere  acci- 


474  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

dental  elements,  and  to  test  a  difficulty  by  its  real  qualities ! 
Atlee  is  a  clever  fellow,  an  able  fellow,  I  assure  you.  That 
very  telegram  before  us  is  a  proof  how  he  can  deal  with  a 
matter  on  which  instruction  would  be  impossible." 

"Indeed,  my  Lord!"  said  Walpole,  with  well-assumed 
innocence. 

"  I  am  right  glad  to  know  he  is  coming  home.  He  must 
demolish  that  writer  in  the  '  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes '  at 
once,  —  some  unprincipled  French  blackguard,  who  has  been 
put  up  to  attack  me  by  Thouvenel !  " 

Would  it  have  appeased  his  Lordship's  wrath  to  know  that 
the  writer  of  this  defamatory  article  was  no  other  than  Joe 
Atlee  himself,  and  that  the  reply  which  was  to  ' '  demolish 
it "  was  more  than  half  written  in  his  desk  at  that  moment  ? 

"I  shall  ask,"  continued  my  Lord,  —  "I  shall  ask  him 
besides  to  write  a  paper  on  Ireland,  and  thsit  fiasco  of  yours, 
Cecil." 

*'  Much  obliged,  my  Lord  !  " 

"Don't  be  angry  or  indignant!  A  fellow  with  a  neat, 
light  hand  like  Atlee  can,  even  under  the  guise  of  allegation, 
do  more  to  clear  you  than  scores  of  vulgar  apologists.  He 
can,  at  least,  show  that  what  our  distinguished  head  of  the 
Cabinet  calls  '  the  flesh-and-blood  argument '  has  its  full 
weight  with  us  in  our  government  of  Ireland,  and  that  our 
bitterest  enemies  cannot  say  we  have  no  sympathies  with  the 
nation  we  rule  over." 

"I  suspect,  my  Lord,  that  what  you  have  so  graciously 
called  ^  my  fiasco*  is  well-nigh  forgotten  by  this  time,  and 
wiser  policy  would  say,  '  Do  not  revive  it.' " 

"  There  's  a  great  policy  in  saying  in  '  an  article '  all  that 
could  be  said  in  '  a  debate,'  and  showing,  after  all,  how  little 
it  comes  to.  Even  the  feeble  grievance-mongers  grow 
ashamed  at  retailing  the  review  and  the  newspapers ;  but, 
what  is  better  still,  if  the  article  be  smartly  written,  they  are 
sure  to  mistake  the  peculiarities  of  style  for  points  in  the 
argument.  I  have  seen  some  splendid  blunders  of  that  kind 
when  I  sat  in  the  Lower  House !  I  wish  Atlee  was  in 
Parliament." 

"I  am  not  aware  that  he  can  speak,  my  Lord." 

"Neither  am  I;    but  I   should  risk   a  small  bet   on  it. 


ATLEE'S   MESSAGE.  475 

He  is  a  ready  fellow,  and  the  ready  fellows  are  many- 
sided,  eh,  Maude?"  Now,  though  his  Lordship  only  asked 
for  his  niece's  concurrence  in  his  own  sage  remark,  Wal- 
pole  affected  to  understand  it  as  a  direct  appeal  to  her 
opinion  of  Atlee,  and  said,  ''  Is  that  your  judgment  of 
this  gentleman,  Maude?" 

"I  have  no  prescription  to  measure  the  abilities  of  such 
men  as  Mr.  Atlee." 

"  You  find  him  pleasant,  witty,  and  agreeable,  I  hope?" 
said  he,  with  a  touch  of  sarcasm. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so." 

''With  an  admirable  memory  and  great  readiness  for  an 
apropos  9  " 

"Perhaps  he  has." 

"  As  a  retailer  of  an  incident  they  tell  me  he  has  no 
rival." 

"  I  cannot  say." 

"  Of  course  not.  I  take  it  the  fellow  has  tact  enough 
not  to  tell  stories  here." 

"  What  is  all  that  you  are  saying  there?  "  cried  his  Lord- 
ship, to  whom  these  few  sentences  were  an  "aside." 

"Cecil  is  praising  Mr.  Atlee,  my  Lord,"  said  Maude, 
bluntly. 

"I  did  not  know  I  had  been,  my  Lord,"  said  he.  "He 
belongs  to  that  class  of  men  who  interest  me  very  little." 

"What  class  may  that  be?" 

"  The  adventurers,  my  Lord.  The  fellows  who  make  the 
campaign  of  life  on  the  faith  that  they  shall  find  their 
rations  in  some  other  man's  knapsack." 

"Ha!    indeed.     Is  that  our  friend's  line?" 

"Most  undoubtedly,  my  Lord.  I  am  ashamed  to  say 
that  it  was  entirely  my  own  fault  if  you  are  saddled  with 
the  fellow  at  all." 

"  I  do  not  see  the  infliction  —  " 

"I  mean,  my  Lord,  that,  in  a  measure,  I  put  him  on 
you  without  very  well  knowing  what  it  was  that  I  did." 

"Have  you  heard  —  do  you  know  anything  of  the  man 
that  should  inspire  caution  or  distrust?" 

"  Well,  these  are  strong  words,"  muttered  he,  hesitatingly. 

But  Lady  Maude  broke  in  with  a  passionate  tone,  "  Don't 


476  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

you  see,  my  Lord,  that  he  does  not  know  anything  to  this 
person's  disadvantage,  —  that  it  is  only  my  cousin's  dip- 
lomatic reserve,  —  that  commendable  caution  of  his  order 
suggests  his  careful  conduct?  Cecil  knows  no  more  of 
Atlee  than  we  do." 

''Perhaps  not  so  much,"  said  Walpole,  with  an  imper- 
tinent simper. 

"/  know,"  said  his  Lordship,  "that  he  is  a  monstrous 
clever  fellow.  He  can  find  you  the  passage  you  want  or 
the  authority  you  are  seeking  for  at  a  moment ;  and  when 
he  writes  he  can  be  rapid  and  concise  too." 

''  He  has  many  rare  gifts,  my  Lord,"  said  Walpole,  with 
the  sly  air  of  one  who  had  said  a  covert  impertinence.  "  I 
am  very  curious  to  know  what  you  mean  to  do  with  him." 

' '  Mean  to  do  with  him  ?  Why,  what  should  I  mean  to 
do  with  him  ?  " 

"  The  very  point  I  wish  to  learn.  A  protege,  my  Lord, 
is  a  parasitic  plant,  and  you  cannot  deprive  it  of  its  double 
instincts, — to  cling  and  to  climb." 

"  How  witty  my  cousin  has  become  since  his  sojourn 
in  Ireland !  "  said  Maude. 

Walpole  flushed  deeply,  and  for  a  moment  he  seemed 
about  to  reply  angrily ;  but,  with  an  effort,  he  controlled 
himself,  and,  turning  towards  the  timepiece  on  the  chimney c, 
said,  "How  late!  I  could  not  have  believed  it  was  past 
one !  I  hope,  my  Lord,  1  have  made  your  despatch  in- 
telligible?" 

"Yes,  yes;  I  think  so.  Besides,  he  will  be  here  in  a 
day  or  two  to  explain." 

"I  shall,  then,  say  good-night,  my  Lord.  Good-night, 
Cousin  Maude."  But  Lady  Maude  had  already  left  the 
room  unnoticed. 


CHAPTER   LXVII. 


WALPOLE    ALONE. 


Once  more  in  his  own  room,  Walpole  returned  to  the  task 
of  that  letter  to  Nina  Kostalergi,  of  which  he  had  made 
nigh  fifty  draughts,  and  not  one  with  which  he  was  satisfied. 

It  was  not  really  very  easy  to  do  what  he  wished.  He 
desired  to  seem  a  warm,  rapturous,  impulsive  lover,  who  had 
no  thought  in  life  —  no  other  hope  or  ambition  —  than  the 
success  of  his  suit.  He  sought  to  show  that  she  had  so 
enraptured  and  enthralled  him  that,  until  she  consented 
to  share  his  fortunes,  he  was  a  man  utterly  lost  to  life 
and  life's  ambitions;  and — while  insinuating  what  a  tre- 
mendous responsibility  she  would  take  on  herself  if  she 
should  venture  by  a  refusal  of  him  to  rob  the  world  of 
those  abilities  that  the  age  could  ill  spare  —  he  also  dimly 
shadowed  the  natural  pride  a  woman  ought  to  feel  in 
knowing  that  she  was  asked  to  be  the  partner  of  such  a 
man,  and  that  one,  for  whom  destiny  in  all  likelihood  re- 
served the  highest  rewards  of  public  life,  was  then,  with 
the  full  consciousness  of  what  he  was  and  what  awaited 
him,  ready  to  share  that  proud  eminence  with  her,  as  a 
prince  might  have  offered  to  share  his  throne. 

In  spite  of  himself,  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do,  it  was  on 
this  latter  part  of  his  letter  his  pen  ran  most  freely.  He 
could  condense  his  raptures,  he  could  control  in  most  praise- 
worthy fashion  all  the  extravagances  of  passion  and  the 
imaginative  joys  of  love,  but,  for  the  life  of  him,  he  could 
abate  nothing  of  the  triumphant  ecstasy  that  must  be  the 
feeling  of  the  woman  who  had  won  him,  —  the  passionate 
delight  of  her  who  should  be  his  wife,  and  enter  life  the 
chosen  one  of  his  affection. 


478  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

It  was  wonderful  how  glibly  he  could  insist  on  this  to 
himself ;  and,  fancying  for  the  moment  that  he  was  one  of 
the  outer  world  commenting  on  the  match,  say,  "  Yes,  let 
people  decry  the  Walpole  class  how  they  might,  —  they  are 
elegant,  they  are  exclusive,  they  are  fastidious,  they  are  all 
tliat  you  like  to  call  the  spoiled  children  of  fortune  in  their 
wit,  their  brilliancy,  and  their  readiness,  but  they  are  the 
only  men  —  the  only  men  in  the  world  who  marry  —  we  '11 
not  say  for  '  love,'  for  the  phrase  is  vulgar  —  but  who  marry 
to  please  themselves !  This  girl  had  not  a  shilling.  As  to 
family,  all  is  said  when  we  say  she  was  a  Greek !  Is  there 
not  something  downright  chivalrous  in  marrying  such  a 
woman  ?     Is  it  the  act  of  a  worldly  man  ?  " 

He  walked  the  room,  uttering  this  question  to  himself 
over  and  over.  Not  exactly  that  he  thought  disparagingly 
of  worldliness  and  material  advantages,  but  he  had  lashed 
himself  into  a  false  enthusiasm  as  to  qualities  which  he 
thought  had  some  special  worshippers  of  their  own,  and 
whose  good  opinion  might  possibly  be  turned  to  profit  some- 
how and  somewhere,  if  he  only  knew  how  and  where.  It 
was  a  monstrous  fine  thing  he  was  about  to  do ;  that  he  felt. 
Where  was  there  another  man  in  his  position  would  take  a 
portionless  girl  and  make  her  his  wife?  Cadets  and  cornets 
in  light  dragoon  regiments  did  these  things ;  they  liked  their 
''  bit  of  beauty ;  "  and  there  was  a  sort  of  mock  poetry 
about  these  creatures  that  suited  that  sort  of  thing ;  but  for 
a  man  who  wrote  his  letters  from  Brookes's  and  whose  din- 
ner invitations  included  all  that  was  great  in  town,  to  stoop 
to  such  an  alliance  was  as  bold  a  defiance  as  one  could  throw 
at  a  world  of  self-seeking  and  conventionality. 

"  That  Emperor  of  the  French  did  it,"  cried  he.  "I  can- 
not recall  to  my  mind  another.  He  did  the  very  same  thing 
I  am  going  to  do.  To  be  sure  he  had  the  '  pull  on  me '  in 
one  point.  As  he  said  himself,  '/am  a  parvenu.'  Now,  I 
cannot  go  that  far !  I  must  justify  my  act  on  other  grounds, 
as  I  hope  I  can  do,"  cried  he,  after  a  pause;  while,  with 
head  erect  and  swelling  chest,  he  went  on:  "I  felt  within 
me  the  place  I  yet  should  occupy.  I  knew  —  ay,  knew  — 
the  prize  that  awaited  me,  and  I  asked  myself,  '  Do  you  see 
in  any  capital  of  Europe  one  woman  with  whom  you  would 


WALPOLE  ALONE.  479 

like  to  share  this  fortune?  Is  there  one  sufficiently  gifted 
and  graceful  to  make  her  elevation  seem  a  natural  and  fitting 
promotion,  and  herself  appear  the  appropriate  occupant  of 
the  station? 

"  'She  is  wonderfully  beautiful:  there  is  no  doubt  of  it. 
Such  beauty  as  they  have  never  seen  here  in  their  lives! 
Fanciful  extravagances  in  dress  and  atrocious  hair-dressing 
cannot  disfigure  her;  and  by  Jove!  she  has  tried  both. 
And  one  has  only  to  imagine  that  woman  dressed  and 
"  coiffeed,"  as  she  might  be,  to  conceive  such  a  triumph  as 
London  has  not  witnessed  for  the  century !  And  I  do  long 
for  such  a  triumph.  If  my  Lord  would  only  invite  us  here, 
were  it  but  for  a  week !  We  should  be  asked  to  Goreham 
and  the  Bexsmiths.'  My  Lady  never  omits  to  invite  a  great 
beauty.  It 's  her  way  to  protest  that  she  is  still  handsome, 
and  not  at  all  jealous.  How  are  we  to  get  '  asked  '  to  Bruton 
Street?"  asked  he  over  and  over,  as  though  the  sounds  must 
secure  the  answer.  *'  Maude  will  never  permit  it.  The 
unlucky  picture  has  settled  that  point.  Maude  will  not  suffer 
her  to  cross  the  threshold !  But  for  the  portrait  I  could 
bespeak  my  cousin's  favor  and  indulgence  for  a  somewhat 
countrified  young  girl,  dowdy  and  awkward.  I  could  plead 
for  her  good  looks  in  that  ad  misericor'diam  fashion  that 
disarms  jealousy  and  enlists  her  generosity  for  an  humble 
connection  she  need  never  see  more  of !  If  I  could  only 
persuade  Maude  that  I  had  done  an  indiscretion,  and  that  I 
knew  it,  I  should  be  sure  of  her  friendship.  Once  make 
her  believe  that  I  have  gone  clean  head  over  heels  into  a 
mesalliance,  and  our  honeymoon  here  is  assured.  I  wish  I 
had  not  tormented  her  about  Atlee.  I  wish  with  all  my 
heart  I  had  kept  my  impertinences  to  myself,  and  gone  no 
further  than  certain  dark  hints  about  what  I  could  say,  if  I 
were  to  be  evil-minded.  What  rare  wisdom  it  is  not  to  fire 
away  one's  last  cartridge !  I  suppose  it  is  too  late  now. 
She  '11  not  forgive  me  that  disparagement  before  my  uncle ; 
that  is,  if  there  be  anything  between  herself  and  Atlee,  a 
point  which  a  few  minutes  will  settle  when  I  see  them  to- 
gether. It  would  not  be  very  difficult  to  make  Atlee  regard 
me  as  his  friend,  and  as  one  ready  to  aid  him  in  this  same 
ambition.     Of  course  he  is  prepared  to  see  in  me  the  enemy 


480  LORD  KILGOBBIK 

of  all  his  plans.  What  would  he  not  give  or  say  or  do  to 
find  me  his  aider  and  abettor?  Shrewd  tactician  as  the 
fellow  is,  he  will  know  all  the  value  of  having  an  accomplice 
within  the  fortress;  and  it  would  be  exactly  from  a  man 
like  myself  he  might  be  disposed  to  expect  the  most  resolute 
opposition." 

He  thought  for  a  long  time  over  this.  He  turned  it  over 
and  over  in  his  mind,  canvassing  all  the  various  benefits  any 
line  of  action  might  promise,  and  starting  every  doubt  or 
objection  he  could  imagine.  Nor  was  the  thought  extra- 
neous to  his  calculations  that  in  forwarding  Atlee's  suit 
to  Maude  he  was  exacting  the  heaviest  "vendetta"  for 
her  refusal  of  himself. 

"There  is  not  a  woman  in  Europe,"  he  exclaimed,  "less 
fitted  to  encounter  small  means  and  a  small  station,  —  to 
live  a  life  of  petty  economies,  and  be  the  daily  associate  of 
a  snob ! 

"  What  the  fellow  may  become  at  the  end  of  the  race,  — 
what  place  he  may  win  after  years  of  toil  and  jobbery,  I 
neither  know  nor  care !  She  will  be  an  old  woman  by  that 
time,  and  will  have  had  space  enough  in  the  interval  to 
mourn  over  her  rejection  of  me.  1  shall  be  a  minister, 
not  impossibly  at  some  court  of  the  Continent,  Atlee,  to 
say  the  best,  an  Under-Secretary  of  State  for  something, 
or  a  Poor  Law  or  Education  Chief.  There  will  be  just 
enough  of  disparity  in  our  stations  to  fill  her  woman's 
heart  with  bitterness,  —  the  bitterness  of  having  backed 
the  wrong  man ! 

"  The  unavailing  regrets  that  beset  us  for  not  having  taken 
the  left-hand  road  in  life  instead  of  the  right  are  our  chief 
mental  resources  after  forty,  and  they  tell  me  that  we  men 
only  know  half  the  poignancy  of  these  miserable  recollec- 
tions. Women  have  a  special  adaptiveness  for  this  kind  of 
torture,  — would  seem  actually  to  revel  in  it." 

He  turned  once  more  to  his  desk  and  to  the  letter.  Some- 
how he  could  make  nothing  of  it.  All  the  dangers  that  he 
desired  to  avoid  so  cramped  his  ingenuity  that  he  could 
say  little  beyond  platitudes ;  and  he  thought  with  terror 
of  her  who  was  to  read  them.  The  scornful  contempt 
with  which  she  would  treat  such  a  letter  was  all  before 
him,  and  he  snatched  up  the  paper  and  tore  it  in  pieces. 


WALPOLE   ALONE.  481 

*'  It  must  not  be  done  by  writing,"  cried  he  at  last.  ''  Who 
is  to  guess  for  which  of  the  fifty  moods  of  such  a  woman 
a  man's  letter  is  to  be  composed  ?  What  you  could  say  now 
you  dared  not  have  written  half  an  hour  ago.  What  would 
have  gone  far  to  gain  her  love  yesterday,  to-day  will  show 
you  the  door !  It  is  only  by  consummate  address  and  skill 
she  can  be  approached  at  all,  and,  without  her  look  and  bear- 
ing, the  inflections  of  her  voice,  her  gestures,  her  '  pose,'  to 
guide  you,  it  would  be  utter  rashness  to  risk  her  humor." 

He  suddenly  bethought  him  at  this  moment  that  he  had 
many  things  to  do  in  Ireland  ere  he  left  England.  He  had 
tradesmen's  bills  to  settle,  and  "traps"  to  be  got  rid  of. 
*' Traps"  included  furniture  and  books  and  horses  and 
horse-gear,  —  details  which  at  first  he  had  hoped  his  friend 
Lockwood  would  have  taken  off  his  hands ;  but  Lockwood 
had  only  written  him  word  that  a  Jew  broker  from  Liver- 
pool would  give  him  forty  pounds  for  his  house  effects,  and 
as  for  "the  screws,"  there  was  nothing  but  an  auction. 

Most  of  us  have  known  at  some  period  or  other  of  our 
lives  what  it  is  to  suffer  from  the  painful  disparagement 
our  chattels  undergo  when  they  become  objects  of  sale; 
but  no  adverse  criticism  of  your  bed  or  your  book-case, 
your  ottoman  or  your  arm-chair,  can  approach  the  sense 
of  pain  inflicted  by  the  impertinent  comments  on  your 
horse.  Every  imputed  blemish  is  a  distinct  personality, 
and  you  reject  the  insinuated  spavin  or  the  suggested 
splint  as  imputations  on  your  honor  as  a  gentleman.  In 
fact,  you  are  pushed  into  the  pleasant  dilemma  of  either 
being  ignorant  as  to  the  defects  of  your  beast,  or  wil- 
fully bent  on  an  act  of  palpable  dishonesty.  When  we 
remember  that  every  confession  a  man  makes  of  his  unac- 
quaintance  with  matters  "  horsey "  is,  in  English  accep- 
tance, a  count  in  the  indictment  against  his  claim  to  be 
thought  a  gentleman,  it  is  not  surprising  that  there  will 
be  men  more  ready  to  hazard  their  characters  than  their 
connoisseurship. 

"  I  '11  go  over  myself  to  Ireland,"  said  he  at  last ;  "  and  a 
week  will  do  everything." 

31 


CHAPTER   LXVIIL 


THOUGHTS    ON   MARRIAGE. 


LocKwooD  was  seated  at  his  fireside  in  his  quarters,  the 
Upper  Castle  Yard,  when  Walpole  burst  in  upon  him  unex- 
pectedly. 

"What!  you  here?"  cried  the  Major.  "Have  you  the 
courage  to  face  Ireland  again?" 

"I  see  nothing  that  should  prevent  my  coming  here. 
Ireland  certainly  cannot  pretend  to  lay  a  grievance  to  my 
charge." 

"Maybe  not.  I  don't  understand  these  things.  I  only 
know  what  people  say  in  the  clubs  and  laugh  over  at  dinner- 
tables." 

"I  cannot  affect  to  be  very  sensitive  as  to  these  Celtic 
criticisms,  and  I  shall  not  ask  you  to  recall  them." 

"They  say  that  Danesbury  got  kicked  out,  all  for  your 
blunders !  " 

"Do  they?"  said  Walpole,  innocently. 

"Yes;  and  they  declare  that  if  old  Daney  was  n't  the  most 
loyal  fellow  breathing,  he  'd  have  thrown  you  over,  and 
owned  that  the  whole  mess  was  of  your  own  brewing,  and 
that  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"Do  they,  indeed,  say  that?" 

"That's  not  half  of  it,  for  they  have  a  story  about  a 
woman  —  some  woman  you  met  down  at  Kilgobbin  —  who 
made  you  sing  rebel  songs  and  take  a  Fenian  pledge,  and 
give  your  word  of  honor  that  Donogan  should  be  let 
escape." 

"Is  that  all?" 

'^ Is  n't  it  enough?  A  man  must  be  a  glutton  for  tom- 
foolery if  he  could  not  be  satisfied  with  that." 


THOUGHTS   ON  MARRIAGE.  483 

•  *' Perhaps  you  never  heard  that  the  chief  of  the  Cabinet 
took  a  very  different  view  of  my  Irish  policy." 

''Irish  policy?"  cried  the  other,  with  lifted  eyebrows. 

"I  said  'Irish  pcJlicy,'  and  repeat  the  words.  Whatever 
line  of  political  action  tends  to  bring  legislation  into  more 
perfect  harmony  with  the  instincts  and  impulses  of  a  very 
peculiar  people,  it  is  no  presumption  to  call  a  policy." 

"With  all  my  heart.  Do  you  mean  to  deal  with  that  old 
Liverpool  rascal  for  the  furniture?" 

"His  offer  is  almost  an  insult." 

"Well,  you'll  be  gratified  to  know  he  retracts  it.  He 
feays  now  he'll  only  give  £35!  And  as  for  the  screws, 
Bobbidge,  of  the  Carbineers,  will  take  them  both  for 
£50." 

"Why,  Lightfoot  alone  is  worth  the  money!  " 

"Minus  the  sand-crack." 

"I  deny  the  sand-crack.  She  was  pricked  in  the 
shoeing." 

"Of  course!  I  never  knew  a  broken  knee  that  was  n't  got 
by  striking  the  manger,  nor  a  sand-crack  that  did  n't  come 
of  an  awkward  smith." 

"What  a  blessing  it  would  be  if  all  the  bad  reputations  in 
society  could  be  palliated  as  pleasantly!  " 

"Shall  I  tell  Bobbidge  you  take  his  offer?  He  wants 
an  answer  at  once." 

"  My  dear  Major,  don't  you  know  that  the  fellow  who  says 
that  simply  means  to  say,  '  Don't  be  too  sure  that  I  shall 
not  change  my  mind  '  ?  Look  out  that  you  take  the  ball  at 
the  hop ! " 

"Lucky  if  it  hops  at  all." 

"Is  that  your  experience  of  life?"  said  Walpole, 
inquiringly. 

"It  is  one  of  them.     Will  you  take  £50  for  the  screws?" 

"Yes;  and  as  much  more  for  the  break  and  the  dog-cart. 
I  want  every  rap  I  can  scrape  together,  Harry.  I  'm  going 
out  to  Guatemala." 

"I  heard  that." 

"Infernal  place;  at  least,  I  believe,  in  climate,  reptiles, 
fevers,  assassination,  it  stands  without  a  rival." 

"So  they  tell  me." 


484  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  It  was  the  only  thing  vacant ;  and  they  rather  affected 
a  difficulty  about  giving  it." 

"So  they  do  when  they  send  a  man  to  the  Gold  Coast; 
and  they  tell  the  newspapers  to  say  what  a  lucky  dog  he  is. " 

"I  can  stand  all  that.  What  really  kills  me  is  giving  a 
man  the  C.  B.  when  he  is  just  booked  for  some  home  of 
yellow  fever." 

"They  do  that,  too,"  gravely  observed  the  other,  who  was 
beginning  to  feel  the  pace  of  the  conversation  rather  too  fast 
for  him.     "Don't  you  smoke?  " 

"I  'm  rather  reducing  myself  to  half  batta  in  tobacco. 
I  've  thoughts  of  marrying." 

"Don't  do  that." 

"Why?     It's  not  wrong." 

"No,  perhaps  not;  but  it 's  stupid." 

"Come,  now,  old  fellow,  life  out  there  in  the  tropics  is 
not  so  jolly  all  alone!  Alligators  are  interesting  creatures, 
and  chetahs  are  pretty  pets ;  but  a  man  wants  a  little  com- 
panionship of  a  more  tender  kind;  and  a  nice  girl  who 
would  link  her  fortunes  with  one's  own,  and  help  one 
through  the  sultry  hours,  is  no  bad  thing." 

"The  nice  girl  wouldn't  go  there." 

"I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  With  your  great  knowledge  of 
life  you  must  know  that  there  has  been  a  glut  in  '  the  nice 
girl '  market  these  years  back.  Prime  lots  are  sold  for  a 
song,  occasionally,  and  first-rate  samples  sent  as  far  as 
Calcutta.  The  truth  is,  the  fellow  who  looks  like  a  real 
buyer  may  have  the  pick  of  the  fair,  as  they  call  it  here." 

"So  he  ought,"  growled  out  the  Major. 

"The  speech  is  not  a  gallant  one.  You  are  scarcely  com- 
plimentary to  the  ladies,  Lockwood." 

"It  was  you  that  talked  of  a  woman  like  a  cow,  or  a  sack 
of  corn,  not  I." 

"I  employed  an  illustration  to  answer  one  of  your  own 
arguments." 

"Who  is  she  to  be?"  bluntly  asked  the  Major. 

"I  '11  tell  you  whom  I  mean  to  ask,  for  I  have  not  put  the 
question  yet." 

A  long,  fine  whistle  expressed  the  other's  astonishment. 
"  And  are  you  so  sure  she  '11  say  yes  ?  " 


THOUGHTS  ON  MARKIAGE.  485 

"I  have  no  other  assurance  than  the  conviction  that  a 
woman  might  do  worse." 

''Humph !  perhaps  she  might.  I  'm  not  quite  certain ;  but 
who  is  she  to  be?" 

"Do  you  remember  a  visit  we  made  together  to  a  certain 
Kilgobbin  Castle?" 

"To  be  sure  I  do.     A  rum  old  ruin  it  was." 

"Do  you  remember  two  young  ladies  we  met  there?" 

"Perfectly.     Are  you  going  to  marry  both  of  them? " 

"My  intention  is  to  propose  to  one,  and  I  imagine  I  need 
not  tell  you  which?  " 

"Naturally,  the  Irish  girl.     She  saved  your  life  —  " 

"  Pray  let  me  undeceive  you  in  a  double  error.  It  is  not 
the  Irish  girl;  nor  did  she  save  my  life." 

"Perhaps  not;  but  she  risked  her  own  to  save  yours. 
You  said  so  yourself  at  the  time." 

"We  '11  not  discuss  the  point  now.  I  hope  I  feel  duly 
grateful  for  the  young  lady's  heroism;  though  it  is  not 
exactly  my  intention  to  record  my  gratitude  in  a  special 
license." 

"A  very  equivocal  sort  of  repayment,"  grumbled  out 
Lock  wood. 

"You  are  epigrammatic  this  evening,  Major." 

"So,  then,  it's  the  Greek  you  mean  to  marry?" 

"It  it  is  the  Greek  I  mean  to  ask." 

"All  right.  I  hope  she'll  take  you.  I  think,  on  the 
whole,  you  suit  each  other.  If  I  were  at  all  disposed  to 
that  sort  of  bondage,  I  don't  know  a  girl  I  'd  rather  risk  the 
road  with  than  the  Irish  cousin.  Miss  Kearney." 

"She  is  very  pretty,  exceedingly  obliging,  and  has  most 
winning  manners." 

"She  is  good-tempered,  and  she  is  natural;  the  two  best 
things  a  woman  can  be." 

"Why  not  come  down  along  with  me  and  try  your  luck?  " 

"When  do  you  go?  " 

"By  the  10.30  train  to-morrow.  I  shall  arrive  at  Moate 
by  four  o'clock,  and  reach  the  castle  to  dinner." 

"They  expect  you?  " 

"Only  so  far  that  I  have  telegraphed  a  line  to  say  I  'm 
going  down  to  bid  '  Good-bye '  before  I  sail  for  Guatemala. 


486  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

I  don't  suspect  they  know  where  that  is;  but  it's  enough 
when  they  understand  it  is  far  away." 

''I'll  go  with  you." 

''Will  you,  really?" 

"  I  will.  I  '11  not  say  on  such  an  errand  as  your  own, 
because  that  requires  a  second  thought  or  two;  but  I'll 
reconnoitre,  Master  Cecil,  — I  '11  reconnoitre." 

"I  suppose  you  know  there  is  no  money." 

"I  should  think  money  most  unlikely  in  such  a  quarter; 
and  it 's  better  she  should  have  none  than  a  small  fortune. 
I  'm  an  old  whist-player;  and  when  I  play  dummy  there  's 
nothing  I  hate  more  than  to  see  two  or  three  small  trumps 
in  my  partner's  hand." 

"I  imagine  you  '11  not  be  distressed  in  that  way  here." 

"  I ' ve  got  enough  to  come  through  with ;  that  is,  the  thing 
can  be  done  if  there  be  no  extravagances." 

"Does  one  want  for  more?"  cried  Walpole,  theatrically. 

"I  don't  know  that.  If  it  were  only  ask  and  have,  I 
should  like  to  be  tempted." 

"I  have  no  such  ambition.  I  firmly  believe  that  the 
moderate  limits  a  man  sets  to  his  daily  wants  constitute  the 
real  liberty  of  his  intellect  and  his  intellectual  nature." 

"Perhaps  I've  no  intellectual  nature,  then,"  growled  out 
Lockwood;  "for  I  know  how  I  should  like  to  spend  fifteen 
thousand  a  year.  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  live  on  as  many 
hundreds." 

"It  can  be  done." 

"Perhaps  it  may.     Have  another  weed?  " 

"No.  I  told  you  already  I  have  begun  a  tobacco  refor- 
mation." 

"Does  she  object  to  the  pipe?" 

"I  cannot  tell  you.  The  fact  is,  Lockwood,  my  future 
and  its  fortunes  are  just  as  uncertain  as  your  own.  This 
day  week  will  probably  have  decided  the  destiny  of  each 
of  us." 

"To  our  success,  then!  "  cried  the  Major,  filling  both  their 
glasses. 

"To  our  success!  "  said  Walpole,  as  he  drained  his,  and 
placed  it  upside  down  on  the  table. 


CHAPTER   LXIX. 

AT    KILGOBBIN    CASTLE. 

The  "Blue  Goat "  at  Moate  was  destined  once  more  to  re- 
ceive the  same  travellers  whom  we  presented  to  our  readers 
at  a  very  early  stage  of  this  history. 

"Not  much  change  here,"  cried  Lockwood,  as  he  strode 
into  the  little  sitting-room  and  sat  down.  "I  miss  the  old 
fellow's  picture,  that's  all." 

"Ah!  by  the  way,"  said  Walpole  to  the  landlord,  "you 
had  my  Lord  Kilgobbin's  portrait  up  there  the  last  time  I 
came  through  here." 

"Yes,  indeed,  sir,"  said  the  man,  smoothing  down  his 
hair  and  looking  apologetically.  "  But  the  Goats  and  my 
Lord,  who  was  the  Buck  Goat,  got  into  a  little  disagree- 
ment, and  they  sent  away  his  picture,  and  his  Lordship 
retired  from  the  club ;  and  —  and  —  that  was  the  way 
of  it." 

"A  heavy  blow  to  your  town,  I  take  it,"  said  the  Major, 
as  he  poured  out  his  beer. 

"Well,  indeed,  your  honor,  I  won't  say  it  was.  You 
see,  sir,  times  is  changed  in  Ireland.  We  don't  care  as 
much  as  we  used  about  the  '  neighboring  gentry,'  as  they 
called  them  once;  and  as  for  the  Lord,  there!  he  doesn't 
spend  a  hundred  a  year  in  Moate." 

"How  is  that?" 

"They  get  what  they  want  by  rail  from  Dublin,  your 
honor;  and  he  might  as  well  not  be  here  at  all." 

"Can  we  have  a  car  to  carry  us  over  to  the  castle?" 
asked  Walpole,  who  did  not  care  to  hear  more  of  local 
grievances. 

"Sure,  isn't  my  Lord's  car  waiting  for  you  since  two 
o'clock!"  said  the  host,  spitefully,  for  he  was  not  concil- 


488  ,  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

iated  by  a  courtesy  that  was  to  lose  him  a  fifteen-shilling 
fare.  "Not  that  there  's  much  of  a  horse  between  the 
shafts,  or  that  old  Daly  himself  is  an  elegant  coachman," 
continued  the  host;  "but  they're  ready  in  the  yard  when 
you  want  them." 

The  travellers  had  no  reason  to  delay  them  in  their  pres- 
ent quarters,  and,  taking  their  places  on  the  car,  set  out  for 
the  castle. 

"I  scarcely  thought  when  I  last  drove  this  road,"  said 
Walpole,  "  that  the  next  time  I  was  to  come  should  be  on 
such  an  errand  as  my  present  one." 

"Humph!"  ejaculated  the  other.  "Our  noble  relative 
that  is  to  be  does  not  shine  in  equipage.  That  beast  is 
dead  lame." 

"If  we  had  our  deserts,  Lockwood,  we  should  be  drawn 
by  a  team  of  doves,  with  the  god  Cupid  on  the  box." 

"I'd  rather  have  two  posters  and  a  yellow  post-chaise." 

A  drizzling  rain  that  now  began  to  fall  interrupted  all 
conversation,  and  each  sunk  back  into  his  own  thoughts 
for  the  rest  of  the  way. 

Lord  Kilgobbin,  with  his  daughter  at  his  side,  watched 
the  car  from  the  terrace  of  the  castle  as  it  slowly  wound  its 
way  along  the  bog  road. 

"  As  well  as  I  can  see,  Kate,  there  is  a  man  on  each  side 
of  the  car,"  said  Kearney,  as  he  handed  his  field-glass  to 
his  daughter. 

"Yes,  papa,  I  see  there  are  two  travellers." 

"And  I  don't  well  know  why  there  should  be  even  one! 
There  was  no  such  great  friendship  between  us  that  he  need 
come  all  this  way  to  bid  us  good-bye." 

"Considering  the  mishap  that  befell  him  here,  it  is  a 
mark  of  good  feeling  to  desire  to  see  us  all  once  more,  don't 
you  think  so  ?  " 

"May  be  so,"  muttered  he,  drearily.  "At  all  events,  it 's 
not  a  pleasant  house  he  's  coming  to.  Young  O'Shea  there, 
upstairs,  just  out  of  a  fever;  and  old  Miss  Betty,  that  may 
arrive  any  moment." 

"There  's  no  question  of  that.  She  says  it  would  be  ten 
days  or  a  fortnight  before  she  is  equal  to  the  journey." 

"Heaven  grant  it!  — hem  —  I  mean  that  she  '11  be  strong 


AT  KILGOBBIN  CASTLE.  489 

enough  for  it  by  that  time.  At  all  events,  if  it  is  the  same 
as  to  our  fine  friend,  Mr.  Walpole,  I  wish  he  'd  have  taken 
his  leave  of  us  in  a  letter." 

"It  is  something  new,  papa,  to  see  you  so  inhospitable." 

"But  I  am  not  inhospitable,  Kitty.  Show  me  the  good 
fellow  that  would  like  to  pass  an  evening  with  me  and  think 
me  good  company,  and  he  shall  have  the  best  saddle  of 
mutton  and  the  raciest  bottle  of  claret  in  the  house.  But 
it 's  only  mock  hospitality  to  be  entertaining  the  man  that 
only  comes  out  of  courtesy  and  just  stays  as  long  as  good 
manners  oblige  him." 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  should  undervalue  politeness, 
especially  when  it  takes  the  shape  of  a  recognition." 

"Well,  be  it  so,"  sighed  he,  almost  drearily.  "If  the 
young  gentleman  is  so  warmly  attached  to  us  all  that  he 
cannot  tear  himself  away  till  he  has  embraced  us,  I  suppose 
there  's  no  help  for  it.     Where  is  Nina?  " 

"She  was  reading  to  Gorman  when  I  saw  her.  She  had 
just  relieved  Dick,  who  has  gone  out  for  a  walk." 

"A  jolly  house  for  a  visitor  to  come  to!"  cried  he, 
sarcastically. 

"We  are  not  very  gay  or  lively,  it  is  true,  papa;  but  it 
is  not  unlikely  that  the  spirit  in  which  our  guest  comes  here 
will  not  need  much  jollity." 

"I  don't  take  it  as  a  kindness  for  a  man  to  bring  me  his 
depression  and  his  low  spirits.  I  've  always  more  of  my 
own  than  I  know  what  to  do  with.  Two  sorrows  never 
made  a  joy,  Kitty." 

"There!  they  are  lighting  the  lamps,"  cried  she,  suddenly. 
"I  don't  think  they  can  be  more  than  three  miles  away." 

"Have  you  rooms  ready,  if  there  be  two  coming?  " 

"Yes,  papa,  Mr.  Walpole  will  have  his  old  quarters;  and 
the  stag-room  is  in  readiness  if  there  be  another  guest." 

"I  'd  like  to  have  a  house  as  big  as  the  royal  barracks, 
and  every  room  of  it  occupied !  "  cried  Kearney,  with  a 
mellow  ring  in  his  voice.  "They  talk  of  society  and  pleas- 
ant company;  but  for  real  enjoyment  there's  nothing  to 
compare  with  what  a  man  has  under  his  own  roof!  No 
claret  ever  tastes  so  good  as  the  decanter  he  circulates  him- 
self.    I  was  low  enough  half  an  hour  ago;    and  now  the 


490  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

mere  thought  of  a  couple  of  fellows  to  dine  with  me  cheers 
me  up  and  warms  my  heart!  I  '11  give  them  the  green  seal, 
Kitty;  and  I  don't  know  there's  another  house  in  the 
county  could  put  a  bottle  of  '46  claret  before  them." 

"So  you  shall,  papa.  I'll  go  to  the  cellar  myself  and 
fetch  it." 

Kearney  hastened  to  make  the  moderate  toilet  he  called 
dressing  for  dinner,  and  was  only  finished  when  his  old  ser- 
vant informed  him  that  two  gentlemen  had  arrived  and  gone 
up  to  their  rooms. 

"I  wish  it  was  two  dozen  had  come,"  said  Kearney,  as  he 
descended  to  the  drawing-room. 

"It  is  Major  Lockwood,  papa,"  cried  Kate,  entering 
and  drawing  him  into  a  window  recess;  "the  Major  Lock- 
wood  that  was  here  before  has  come  with  Mr.  Walpole.  I 
met  him  in  the  hall  while  I  had  the  basket  with  the  wine  in 
my  hand;  and  he  was  so  cordial  and  glad  to  see  me  you 
cannot  think." 

"He  knew  that  green  wax,  Kitty.  He  tasted  that  *  bin  ' 
when  he  was  here  last." 

"Perhaps  so;  but  he  certainly  seemed  overjoyed  at 
something." 

"Let  me  see,"  muttered  he;  "wasn't  he  the  big  fellow 
with  the  long  moustaches  ?  " 

"A  tall,  very  good-looking  man;  dark  as  a  Spaniard,  and 
not  unlike  one." 

"To  be  sure,  to  be  sure.  I  remember  him  well.  He 
was  a  capital  shot  with  the  pistol,  and  he  liked  his  wine. 
By  the  way,  Nina  did  not  take  to  him." 

"How  do  you  remember  that,  papa?"  said  she,  archly. 

"If  I  don't  mistake,  she  told  me  so,  or  she  called  him  a 
brute,  or  a  savage,  or  some  one  of  those  things  a  man  is 
sure  to  be  when  a  woman  discovers  he  will  not  be  her 
slave." 

Nina,  entering  at  the  moment,  cut  short  all  rejoinder;  and 
Kearney  came  forward  to  meet  her,  with  his  hand  out. 

"Shake  out  your  lower  courses,  and  let  me  look  at  you," 
cried  he,  as  he  walked  round  her  admiringly.  "  Upon  my 
oath,  it's  more  beautiful  than  ever  you  are!  I  can  guess 
what  a  fate  is  reserved  for  those  dandies  from  Dublin." 


AT  KILGOBBIN  CASTLE.  491 

"Do  you  like  my  dress,  sir?  Is  it  becoming?"  asked 
she. 

"Becoming  it  is;  but  I  'm  not  sure  whether  I  like  it." 

"And  how  is  that,  sir?  " 

"I  don't  see  how,  with  all  that  floating  gauze  and  swelling 
lace,  a  man  is  to  get  an  arm  round  you  at  all  —  " 

"I  cannot  perceive  the  necessity,  sir;"  and  the  insolent 
toss  of  her  head,  more  forcibly  even  than  her  words,  re- 
sented such  a  possibility. 


CHAPTER  LXX. 

atlee's  return. 

When  Atlee  arrived  at  Bruton  Street,  the  welcome  that  met 
him  was  almost  cordial.  Lord  Danesbury  —  not  very 
demonstrative  at  any  time  —  received  him  with  warmth, 
and  Lady  Maude  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  sort  of  signifi- 
cant cordiality  that  overwhelmed  him  with  delight.  The 
climax  of  his  enjoyment  was,  however,  reached  when  Lord 
Danesbury  said  to  him,  "We  are  glad  to  see  you  at  home 
again." 

This  speech  sunk  deep  into  his  heart,  and  he  never  wearied 
of  repeating  it  over  and  over  to  himself.  When  he  reached 
his  room,  where  his  luggage  had  already  preceded  him,  and 
found  his  dressing  articles  laid  out,  and  all  the  little  cares 
and  attentions  which  well-trained  servants  understand 
awaiting  him,  he  muttered,  with  a  tremulous  sort  of  ecstasy, 
"This  is  a  very  glorious  way  to  come  home! " 

The  rich  furniture  of  the  room,  the  many  appliances  of 
luxury  and  ease  around  him,  the  sense  of  rest  and  quiet,  so 
delightful  after  a  journey,  all  appealed  to  him  as  he  threw 
himself  into  a  deep-cushioned  chair.  He  cried  aloud, 
"Home!  home!  Is  this,  indeed,  home?  What  a  different 
thing  from  that  mean  life  of  privation  and  penury  I  have 
always  been  associating  with  this  word,  —  from  that  per- 
petual struggle  with  debt,  —  the  miserable  conflict  that  went 
on  through  every  day,  till  not  an  action,  not  a  thought, 
remained  untinctured  with  money;  and,  if  a  momentary 
pleasure  crossed  the  path,  the  cost  of  it  as  certain  to  tarnish 
all  the  enjoyment!  Such  was  the  only  home  I  have  ever 
known,  or,  indeed,  imagined." 

It  is  said  that  the  men  who  have  emerged  from  very 
humble  conditions  in  life,  and  occupy  places  of   eminence 


ATLEE'S  RETURN.  493 

or  promise,  are  less  overjoyed  at  this  change  of  fortune  than 
impressed  with  a  kind  of  resentment  towards  the  destiny 
that  once  had  subjected  them  to  privation.  Their  feeling 
is  not  so  much  joy  at  the  present  as  discontent  with  the 
past. 

"Why  was  I  not  born  to  all  this?"  cried  Atlee,  indig- 
nantly. "  What  is  there  in  me,  or  in  my  nature,  that  this 
should  be  a  usurpation?  Why  was  I  not  schooled  at  Eton, 
and  trained  at  Oxford?  Why  was  I  not  bred  up  amongst 
the  men  whose  competitor  I  shall  soon  find  myself?  Why 
have  1  not  their  ways,  their  instincts,  their  watchwords, 
their  pastimes,  and  even  their  prejudices,  as  parts  of  my 
very  nature?  Why  am  I  to  learn  these  late  in  life,  as  a 
man  learns  a  new  language,  and  never  fully  catches  the 
sounds  or  the  niceties?  Is  there  any  competitorship  I 
should  flinch  from,  any  rivalry  I  should  fear,  if  I  had  but 
started  fair  in  the  race?" 

This  sense  of  having  been  hardly  treated  by  fortune  at  the 
outset,  marred  much  of  his  present  enjoyment,  accompanied 
as  it  was  by  a  misgiving  that,  do  what  he  might,  that  early 
inferiority  would  cling  to  him  like  some  rag  of  a  garment 
that  he  must  wear  over  all  his  "braverie,"  proclaiming,  as 
it  did  to  the  world,  "This  is  from  what  1  sprung  originally." 

It  was  not  by  any  exercise  of  vanity  that  Atlee  knew  he 
talked  better,  knew  more,  was  wittier  and  more  ready-witted 
than  the  majority  of  men  of  his  age  and  standing.  The 
consciousness  that  he  could  do  scores  of  things  they  could 
not  do  was  not  enough,  tarnished  as  it  was  by  a  misgiv- 
ing that,  by  some  secret  mystery  of  breeding,  some  free- 
masonry of  fashion,  he  was  not  one  of  them,  and  that  this 
awkward  fact  was  suspended  over  him  for  life,  to  arrest 
his  course  in  the  hour  of  success,  and  balk  him  at  the  very 
moment  of  victory. 

"Till  a  man's  adoption  amongst  them  is  ratified  by  a  mar- 
riage, he  is  not  safe,"  muttered  he.  "Till  the  fate  and 
future  of  one  of  their  own  is  embarked  in  the  same  boat  with 
himself,  they  '11  not  grieve  over  his  shipwreck." 

Could  he  but  call  Lady  Maude  his  wife !  Was  this  pos- 
sible ?  There  were  classes  in  which  affections  went  for  much ; 
where  there  was  such  a  thing  as  engaging  these  same  affec 


494  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

tions,  and  actually  pledging  all  hope  of  happiness  in  life  on 
the  faith  of  such  engagements.  These,  it  is  true,  were  the 
sentiments  that  prevailed  in  humbler  walks  of  life,  amongst 
those  lowly-born  people  whose  births  and  marriages  were 
not  chronicled  in  gilt-bound  volumes.  The  Lady  Maudes 
of  the  world,  whatever  imprudences  they  might  permit  them- 
selves, certainl}^  never  "fell  in  love."  Condition  and  place 
in  the  world  were  far  too  serious  things  to  be  made  the  sport 
of  sentiment.  Love  was  a  very  proper  thing  in  three-volume 
novels,  and  Mr.  Mudie  drove  a  roaring  trade  in  it;  but  in 
the  well-bred  world,  immersed  in  all  its  engagements,  triple- 
deep  in  its  projects  and  promises  for  pleasure,  where  was 
the  time,  where  the  opportunity,  for  this  pleasant  fooling? 
That  luxurious  selfishness  in  which  people  delight  to  plan  a 
future  life,  and  agree  to  think  that  they  have  in  themselves 
what  can  confront  narrow  fortune  and  difficulty,  —  these  had 
no  place  in  the  lives  of  persons  of  fashion !  In  that  coquetry 
of  admiration  and  flattery  which  in  the  language  of  slang 
is  called  spooning,  young  persons  occasionally  got  so  far 
acquainted  that  they  agreed  to  be  married,  pretty  much  as 
they  agreed  to  waltz  or  to  polka  together ;  but  it  was  always 
with  the  distinct  understanding  that  they  were  doing  what 
mammas  would  approve  of,  and  family  solicitors. t)f  good 
conscience  could  ratify.  No  tyrannical  sentimentality,  no 
uncontrollable  gush  of  sympathy,  no  irresistible  convic- 
tions about  all  future  happiness  being  dependent  on  one 
issue,  overbore  these  natures,  and  made  them  insensible  to 
title  and  rank  and  station  and  settlements. 

In  one  word,  Atlee,  after  due  consideration,  satisfied  his 
mind  that,  though  a  man  might  gain  the  affections  of  the 
doctor's  daughter  or  the  squire's  niece,  and  so  establish 
him  as  an  element  of  her  happiness  that  friends  would  over- 
look all  differences  of  fortune,  and  try  to  make  some  sort  of 
compromise  with  fate,  —  all  these  were  unsuited  to  the 
sphere  in  which  Lady  Maude  moved.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
realm  where  this  coinage  did  not  circulate.  To  enable  him 
to  address  her  with  any  prospect  of  success,  he  should  be 
able  to  show,  ay,  and  to  show  argumentatively,  that  she 
was,  in  listening  to  him,  about  to  do  something  eminently 
prudent  and  worldly-wise.     She  must,  in  short,  be  in  a  posi- 


ATLEE'S   RETURN.  495 

tion  to  show  her  fricDds  and  "  society  "  that  she  had  not  com- 
mitted herself  to  anything  wilful  or  foolish,  — had  not  been 
misled  by  a  sentiment  or  betrayed  by  a  sympathy ;  and  that 
the  well-bred  questioner  who  inquired,  ''Why  did  she  marry 
Atlee?"  should  be  met  by  an  answer  satisfactory  and 
convincing. 

In  the  various  ways  he  canvassed  the  question  and  re= 
volved  it  with  himself,  there  was  one  consideration  which, 
if  I  were  at  all  concerned  for  his  character  for  gallantry,  1 
should  be  reluctant  to  reveal ;  but,  as  I  feel  little  interest  on 
this  score,  I  am  free  to  own  was  this.  He  remembered 
that  as  Lady  Maude  was  no  longer  in  her  first  youth,  there 
was  reason  to  suppose  she  might  listen  to  addresses  now 
which,  some  years  ago,  would  have  met  scant  favor  in  her 
eyes. 

In  the  matrimonial  Lloyd's,  if  there  were  such  a  body, 
she  would  not  have  figured  A  No.  1 ;  and  the  risks  of  enter- 
ing the  conjugal  state  have  probably  called  for  an  extra 
premium.  Atlee  attached  great  importance  to  this  fact; 
but  it  was  not  the  less  a  matter  which  demanded  the  greatest 
delicacy  of  treatment.  He  must  know  it,  and  he  must  not 
know  it.  He  must  see  that  she  had  been  the  belle  of  many 
seasons,  and  he  must  pretend  to  regard  her  as  fresh  to  the 
ways  of  life,  and  new  to  society.  He  trusted  a  good  deal 
to  his  tact  to  do  this ;  for  while  insinuating  to  her  the  pos- 
sible future  of  such  a  man  as  himself,  the  high  place,  and 
the  great  rewards  which  in  all  likelihood  awaited  him,  there 
would  come  an  opportune  moment  to  suggest  that  to  any 
one  less  gifted,  less  conversant  with  knowledge  of  life  than 
herself,  such  reasonings  could  not  be  addressed. 

''It  could  never  be,"  cried  he,  aloud.  "To  some  miss 
fresh  from  the  schoolroom  and  the  governess,  I  could  dare 
to  talk  a  language  only  understood  by  those  who  have  been 
conversant  with  high  questions,  and  moved  in  the  society  of 
thoughtful  talkers." 

There  is  no  quality  so  dangerous  to  eulogize  as  experi- 
ence, and  Atlee  thought  long  over  this.  One  determination 
or  another  must  speedily  be  come  to.  If  there  was  no  like- 
lihood of  success  with  Lady  Maude,  he  must  not  lose  his 
chances  with  the  Greek  girl.     The  sum,  whatever  it  might 


496  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

be,  which  her  father  should  obtain  for  his  secret  papers, 
would  constitute  a  very  respectable  portion.  "I  have  a 
stronger  reason  to  fight  for  liberal  terms,"  thought  he,  "than 
the  Prince  Kostalergi  imagines ;  and,  fortunately,  that  fine 
parental  trait,  that  noble  desire  to  make  a  provision  for  his 
child,  stands  out  so  clearly  in  my  brief,  1  should  be  a  sorry 
advocate  if  I  could  not  employ  it." 

In  the  few  words  that  passed  between  Lord  Danesbury  and 
himself  on  arriving,  he  learned  that  there  was  but  little 
chance  of  winning  his  election  for  the  borough.  Indeed, 
he  bore  the  disappointment  jauntily  and  good-humoredly. 
That  great  philosophy  of  not  attaching  too  much  importance 
to  any  one  thing  in  life,  sustained  him  in  every  venture. 
"Bet  on  the  field;  never  back  the  favorite,"  was  his  formula 
for  inculcating  the  wisdom  of  trusting  to  the  general  game 
of  life,  rather  than  to  any  particular  emergency.  "Back 
the  field,"  he  would  say,  "and  you  must  be  unlucky,  or 
you  '11  come  right  in  the  long  run." 

They  dined  that  day  alone,  —  that  is,  they  were  but  three 
at  table;  and  Atlee  enjoyed  the  unspeakable  pleasure  of 
hearing  them  talk  with  the  freedom  and  unconstraint  people 
only  indulge  in  when  "at  home."  Lord  Danesbury  dis- 
cussed confidential  questions  of  political  importance,  told 
how  his  colleagues  agreed  in  this,  or  differed  on  that;  ad- 
verted to  the  nice  points  of  temperament  which  made  one 
man  hopeful  and  that  other  despondent  or  distrustful;  he 
exposed  the  difficulties  they  had  to  meet  in  the  Commons, 
and  where  the  Upper  House  was  intractable ;  and  even  went 
so  far  in  his  confidences  as  to  admit  where  the  criticisms  of 
the  Press  were  felt  to  be  damaging  to  the  administration. 

"The  real  danger  of  ridicule,"  said  he,  "is  not  the  pun- 
gency of  the  satire;  it  is  the  facility  with  which  it  is  remem- 
bered and  circulated.  The  man  who  reads  the  strong  leader 
in  the  '  Times  '  may  have  some  general  impression  of  being 
convinced,  but  he  cannot  repeat  its  arguments  or  quote  its 
expressions.  The  pasquinade  or  the  squib  gets  a  hold  on 
the  mind,  and  in  its  very  drollery  will  insure  its  being 
retained  there." 

Atlee  was  not  a  little  gratified  to  hear  that  this  opinion 
was  delivered   apropos  to  a  short  paper  of  his  own,  whose 


ATLEE'S   RETURN.  497 

witty  sarcasms  on  the  Cabinet  were  exciting  great  amuse- 
ment in  town,  and  much  curiosity  as  to  the  writer. 

"He  has  not  seen  'The  Whitebait  Dinner'  yet,"  said 
Lady  Maude;   "the  cleverest  jeu-d'esprit  of  the  day." 

"Ay,  or  of  any  day,"  broke  in  Lord  Danesbury.  "Even 
the  '  Anti-Jacobin '  has  nothing  better.  The  notion  is  this. 
The  Devil  happens  to  be  taking  a  holiday,  and  he  is  in  town 
just  at  the  time  of  the  Ministerial  dinner,  and,  hearing  that 
he  is  at  Claridge's,  the  Cabinet,  ashamed  at  the  little  atten- 
tion bestowed  on  a  crowned  head,  ask  him  down  to  Green- 
wich.    He  accepts,  and  to  kill  an  hour,  — 

'  He  strolled  down,  of  course, 
To  the  Parliament  House, 
And  heard  how  England  stood. 
As  she  has  since  the  Flood, 
Without  ally  or  friend  to  assist  her. 

But^  while  every  persuasion 

Was  full  of  invasion 

From  Russian  or  Prussian, 

Yet  the  only  discussion 
Was,  how  should  a  Gentleman  marry  his  sister  ?  ' " 

"Can  you  remember  anymore  of  it,  my  Lord?"  asked 
Atlee,  on  whose  table  at  that  moment  were  lying  the  proof- 
sheets  of  the  production. 

"  Maude  has  it  all  somewhere.  You  must  find  it  for  him, 
and  let  him  guess  the  writer  —  if  he  can." 

"  What  do  the  clubs  say?"  asked  Atlee. 

"  1  think  they  are  divided  between  Orlop  and  Bouverie. 
I  'm  told  that  the  Garrick  people  say  it 's  Sankey,  a  young 
fellow  in  F.  O." 

"  You  should  see  Aunt  Jerningham  about  it,  Mr.  Atlee,  — 
her  eagerness  is  driving  her  half  mad." 

"  Take  him  out  to  '  Lebanon '  on  Sunday,"  said  my  Lord ; 
and  Lady  Maude  agreed  with  a  charming  grace  and  courtesy, 
adding  as  she  left  the  room,  "  So  remember  you  are  engaged 
for  Sunday." 

Atlee  bowed  as  he  held  the  door  open  for  her  to  pass  out, 
and  threw  into  his  glance  what  he  desired  might  mean  homage 
and  eternal  devotion. 

"Now  then,   for  a  little  quiet  confab,"  said  my  Lord. 

32 


(( 


498  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"Let  me  hear  what  you  mean  by  your  telegram.     All  I 
could  make  out  was  that  you  found  our  man." 

"Yes;  I  found  him,  and  passed  several  hours  in  his 
company.'* 

"  Was  the  fellow  very  much  out  at  elbows,  as  usual?  " 

"  No,  my  Lord,  —  thriving,  and  likely  to  thrive.  He  has 
just  been  named  Envoy  to  the  Ottoman  Court." 

"  Bah !  "  was  all  the  reply  his  incredulity  could  permit. 
True,  I  assure  you.     Such  is  the  estimation  he  is  held  in 
the  Greeks  declare  he  has  not  his  equal.     You 
are  aware  that  his  name  is  Spiridion  Kostalergi,   and  he 
claims  to  be  Prince  of  Delos." 

"  With  all  my  heart.  Our  Hellenic  friends  never  quarrel 
over  their  nobility.  There  are  titles  and  to  spare  for  every 
one.     Will  he  give  us  our  papers?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  not  without  high  terms.  He  declares,  in  fact, 
my  Lord,  that  you  can  no  more  return  to  the  Bosphorus 
without  hirn^  than  he  can  go  there  without  you.'' 

"  Is  the  fellow  insolent  enough  to  take  this  ground?  " 

"That  is  he.  In  fact,  he  presumes  to  talk  as  your  Lord- 
ship's colleague,  and  hints  at  the  several  points  in  which  you 
may  act  in  concert." 

"  It  is  very  Greek  all  this." 

"  His  terms  are  ten  thousand  pounds  in  cash,  and  —  " 

"  There,  there,  that  will  do.  Why  not  fifty,  —  why  not  a 
hundred  thousand  ?  " 

"  He  affects  a  desire  to  be  moderate,  my  Lord." 

"  I  hope  you  withdrew  at  once  after  such  a  proposal?  I 
trust  you  did  not  prolong  the  interview  a  moment  longer?  " 

"  I  arose,  indeed,  and  declared  that  the  mere  mention  of 
such  terms  was  like  a  refusal  to  treat  at  all." 

"  And  you  retired  ?  " 

"I  gained  the  dooi;;  when  he  detained  me.  He  has,  I 
must  admit,  a  marvellous  plausibility ;  for,  though  at  first  he 
seemed  to  rely  on  the  all-importance  of  these  documents  to 
your  Lordship,  how  far  they  would  compromise  you  in  the 
past  and  impede  you  for  the  future,  how  they  would  impair 
your  influence,  and  excite  the  animosity  of  many  who  were 
freely  canvassed  and  discussed  in  them,  yet  he  abandoned 
all  that  at  the  end  of  our  interview,  and  restricted  himself  to 


ATLEE'S  RETURN.  499 

the  plea  that  the  sura,  if  a  large  one,  could  not  be  a  serious 
difficulty  to  a  great  English  noble,  and  would  be  the  crown- 
ing fortune  of  a  poor  Greek  gentleman,  who  merely  desired 
to  secure  a  marriage  portion  for  his  only  daughter." 

"  And  you  believed  this?  " 

"  I  so  far  believed  him  that  I  have  his  pledge  in  writing 
that  when  he  has  your  Lordship's  assurance  that  you  will 
comply  with  his  terms,  —  and  he  only  asks  that  much,  — he 
will  deposit  the  papers  in  the  hands  of  the  Minister  at 
Athens,  and  constitute  your  Lordship  the  trustee  of  the 
amount  in  favor  of  his  daughter,  the  sum  only  to  be  paid 
on  her  marriage." 

"  How  can  it  possibly  concern  me  that  he  has  a  daughter, 
or  why  should  I  accept  such  a  trust?" 

"  The  proposition  had  no  other  meaning  than  to  guarantee 
the  good  faith  on  which  his  demand  is  made." 

''  I  don't  believe  in  the  daughter." 

*'  That  is,  that  there  is  one?  " 

''No.  I  am  persuaded  that  she  has  no  existence.  It  is 
some  question  of  a  mistress  or  a  dependant ;  and  if  so,  the 
sentimentality  which  would  seem  to  have  appealed  so  for- 
cibly to  you  fails  at  once." 

"That  is  quite  true,  my  Lord;  and  I  cannot  pretend  to 
deny  the  weakness  you  accuse  me  of.  There  may  be  no 
daughter  in  the  question." 

''Ah!  You  begin  to  perceive  now  that  you  surrendered 
your  convictions  too  easily,  Atlee.  You  failed  in  that  ele- 
ment of  '  restless  distrust '  that  Talleyrand  used  to  call  the 
temper  of  the  diplomatist." 

"It  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  had  to  feel  I  am  your 
Lordship's  inferior." 

"  My  education  was  not  made  in  a  day,  Atlee.  It  need  be 
no  discouragement  to  you  that  you  are  not  as  long-sighted  as 
I  am.  No,  no;  rely  upon  it,  there  is  no  daughter  in  the 
case." 

"  With  that  conviction,  my  Lord,  what  is  easier  than  to 
make  your  adhesion  to  his  terms  conditional  on  his  truth? 
You  agree,  if  his  statement  be  in  all  respects  verified." 

"  Which  implies  that  it  is  of  the  least  consequence  to  me 
whether  the  fellow  has  a  daughter  or  not?" 


500  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

**  It  is  so  only  as  the  guarantee  of  the  man's  veracity." 

"  And  shall  I  give  ten  thousand  pounds  to  test  that  ?  " 

"  No,  my  Lord  ;  but  to  repossess  yourself  of  what,  in  very 
doubtful  hands,  might  prove  a  great  scandal  and  a  great 
disaster." 

"  Ten  thousand  pounds  !  ten  thousand  pounds  !  " 

"  Why  not  eight  —  perhaps,  five?  I  have  not  your  Lord- 
ship's great  knowledge  to  guide  me,  and  I  cannot  tell  when 
these  men  really  mean  to  maintain  their  ground.  From  my 
own  very  meagre  experiences,  I  should  say  he  was  not  a  very 
tractable  individual.  He  sees  some  promise  of  better  fortune 
before  him,  and  like  a  genuine  gambler  —  as  I  hear  he  is  — 
he  determines  to  back  his  luck." 

"Ten  thousand  pounds!"  muttered  the  other,  below  his 
breath. 

''As  regards  the  money,  my  Lord,  I  take  it  that  these 
same  papers  were  documents  which  more  or  less  concerned 
the  public  service  —  they  were  in  no  sense  personal,  although 
meant  to  be. private;  and  although  in  my  ignorance  I  may 
be  mistaken,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  fund  devoted  to  secret 
services  could  not  be  more  fittingly  appropriated  than  in 
acquiring  documents  whose  publicity  could  prove  a  national 
injury." 

' '  Totally  wrong,  —  utterly  wrong.  The  money  could  never 
be  paid  on  such  a  pretence ;  the  '  Office '  would  not  sanction 
—  no  Minister  would  dare  to  advise  it." 

"Then  I  come  back  to  my  original  suggestion.  I  should 
give  a  conditional  acceptance,  and  treat  for  a  reduction  of 
the  amount." 

' '  You  would  say  five  ?  " 

"  I  opine,  my  Lord,  eight  would  have  more  chance  of 
success." 

"You  are  a  warm  advocate  for  your  client,"  said  his 
Lordship,  laughing ;  and  though  the  shot  was  merely  a  ran- 
dom one,  it  went  so  true  to  the  mark  that  Atlee  flushed  up 
and  became  crimson  all  over.  "  Don't  mistake  me,  Atlee," 
said  his  Lordship,  in  a  kindly  tone.  "  I  know  thoroughly 
how  viy  interests,  and  only  mine,  have  any  claim  on  your 
attention.  This  Greek  fellow  must  be  less  than  nothing  to 
you.  Tell  me  now  frankly,  do  you  believe  one  word  he  has 
told  you?     Is  he  really  named  as  Minister  to  Turkey?  " 


ATLEE'S  RETURN.  501 

**  That  much  I  can  answer  for,  —  he  is." 

*'  What  of  the  daughter,  — is  there  a  daughter?  " 

"  I  suspect  there  may  be.  However,  the  matter  admits  of 
an  easy  proof.  He  has  given  me  names  and  addresses  in 
Ireland  of  relatives  with  whom  she  is  living.  Now,  I  am 
thoroughly  conversant  with  Ireland,  and,  by  the  indications 
in  my  power,  I  can  pledge  myself  to  learn  all,  not  only  about 
the  existence  of  this  person,  but  of  such  family  circumstances 
as  might  serve  to  guide  you  in  your  resolve.  Time  is  wiiat 
is  most  to  be  thought  of  here.  Kostalergi  requires  a  prompt 
answer,  —  first  of  all,  your  assurance  that  you  will  support 
his  claim  to  be  received  by  the  Sultan.  Well,  my  Lord,  if 
you  refuse,  Mouravieff  will  do  it.  You  know  better  than  me 
how  impolitic  it  might  be  to  throw  these  Turks  more  into 
Russian  influence  —  " 

'*  Never  mind  that^  Atlee.  Don't  distress  yourself  about 
the  political  aspect  of  the  question." 

"  I  promised  a  telegraphic  line  to  say,  would  you  or  would 
you  not  sustain  his  nomination.  It  was  to  be  yes  or  no,  — 
not  more." 

"Say?  yes.  I'll  not  split  hairs  about  what  Greek  best 
represents  his  nation.     Say,  yes." 

"  I  am  sure,  my  Lord,  you  do  wisely.  He  is  evidently  a 
man  of  ability,  and,  I  suspect,  not  morally  much  Worse  than 
his  countrymen  in  general." 

"Say,  yes;  and  then,"  —  he  mused  for  some  minutes 
before  he  continued,  —  "and  then  run  over  to  Ireland, — 
learn  something,  if  you  can,  of  this  girl,  with  whom  she  is 
staying,  in  what  position,  what  guarantees,  if  any,  could  be 
had  for  the  due  employment  and  destination  of  a  sum  of 
money,  in  the  event  of  our  agreeing  to  pay  it.  Mind,  it  is 
simply  as  a  gauge  of  the  fellow's  veracity  that  this  story 
has  any  value  for  us.  Daughter  or  no  daughter,  is  not  of 
any  moment  to  me  ;  but  I  want  to  test  the  problem,  —  can  he 
tell  one  word  of  truth  about  anything?  You  are  shrewd 
enough  to  see  the  bearing  of  this  narrative  on  all  he  has  told 
you,  — where  it  sustains,  where  it  accuses  him." 

"  Shall  I  set  out  at  once,  my  Lord?  " 

"No.  Next  week  will  do.  We'll  leave  him  to  ruminate 
over  your  telegram.     That  will  show  him  we  have  entertained 


502  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

his  project ;  and  he  is  too  practised  a  hand  not  to  know  the 
value  of  an  opened  negotiation.  Cradock  and  Mellish  and 
one  or  two  more  wish  to  talk  with  you  about  Turkey. 
Gray  don,  too,  has  some  questions  to  ask  you  about  Suez. 
They  dine  here  on  Monday.  Tuesday  we  are  to  have  the 
Hargraves  and  Lord  Masham,  and  a  couple  of  Under-Secre- 
taries of  State ;  and  Lady  Maude  will  tell  us  about  Wednes- 
day, for  all  these  people,  Atlee,  are  coming  to  meet  you. 
The  newspapers  have  so  persistently  been  keeping  you  before 
the  world,  every  one  wants  to  see  you." 

Atlee  might  have  told  his  Lordship  —  but  he  did  not  — 
by  what  agency  it  chanced  that  his  journeys  and  his  jests 
were  so  thoroughly  known  to  the  press  of  every  capital  in 
Europe. 


CHAPTER  LXXI. 


THE    DRIVE. 


Sunday  came,  and  with  it  the  visit  to  South  Kensington, 
where  Aunt  Jerningham  lived ;  and  Atlee  found  himself 
seated  beside  Lady  Maude  in  a  fine  roomy  barouche,  whirl- 
ing along  at  a  pace  that  our  great  moralist  himself  admits  to 
be  amongst  the  very  pleasantest  excitements  humanity  can 
experience. 

"  I  hope  you  will  add  your  persuasions  to  mine,  Mr.  Atlee, 
and  induce  my  uncle  to  take  these  horses  with  him  to  Turkey. 
You  know  Constantinople,  and  can  say  that  real  carriage- 
horses  cannot  be  had  there." 

"  Horses  of  this  size,  shape,  and  action  the  Sultan  himself 
has  not  the  equals  of." 

*'  No  one  is  more  aware  than  my  Lord,"  continued  she, 
"  that  the  measure  of  an  ambassador's  influence  is,  in  a  great 
degree,  the  style  and  splendor  in  which  he  represents  his 
country,  and  that  his  household,  his  equipage,  his  retinue, 
and  his  dinners  should  mark  distinctly  the  station  he  assumes 
to  occupy.  Some  caprice  of  Mr.  Walpole's  about  Arab 
horses  —  Arabs  of  bone  and  blood  he  used  to  talk  of  —  has 
taken  hold  of  my  uncle's  mind,  and  I  half  fear  that  he  may 
not  take  the  English  horses  wdth  him." 

"By  the  way,"  said  Atlee,  half  listlessly,  "where  is 
Walpole?     What  has  become  of  him?" 

"  He  is  in  Ireland  at  this  moment." 

"In  Ireland!  Good  heavens!  has  he  not  had  enough  of 
Ireland?" 

"  Apparently  not.     He  went  over  there  on  Tuesday  last." 

"  And  what  can  he  possibly  have  to  do  in  Ireland?  " 

"I  should  say  that  you  are  more  likely  to  furnish  the 
answer  to  that  question  than  I.     If  I  'm  not  much  mistaken, 


504  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

his  letters  are  forwarded  to  the  same  country  house  where 
you  first  made  each  other's  acquaintance." 

''What,  Kilgobbin  Castle?" 

"Yes,  it  is  something  Castle,  and  I  think  the  name  you 
mentioned." 

"  And  this  only  puzzles  me  the  more,"  added  Atlee, 
pondering. 

"  His  first  visit  there,  at  the  time  I  met  him,  was  a  mere 
accident  of  travel,  —  a  tourist's  curiosity  to  see  an  old  castle 
supposed  to  have  some  historic  associations." 

"Were  there  not  some  other  attractions  in  the  spot?" 
interrupted  she,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  there  was  a  genial  old  Irish  Squire,  who  did  the 
honors  very  handsomely,  if  a  little   rudely,  and  there  wer 
two  daughters,  or  a  daughter  and  a  niece,  I  'm  not  very  clear 
which,    who   sang    Irish   melodies   and    talked   rebellion   to 
match  very  amusingly." 

"Were  they  pretty?" 

"  Well,  perhaps  courtesy  would  say  '  pretty,'  but  a  keener 
criticism  would  dwell  on  certain  awkwardnesses  of  manner, 
—  Walpole  called  them  Irishries." 

"Indeed!  " 

"Yes,  he  confessed  to  have  been  amused  with  the  eccen- 
tric habits  and  odd  ways,  but  he  was  not  sparing  of  his 
strictures  afterwards." 

"So  that  there  were  no  'tendernesses'?" 

"  Oh,  I  '11  not  go  that  far.  I  rather  suspect  there  were 
'  tendernesses,'  but  only  such  as  a  fine  gentleman  permits 
himself  amongst  semi-savage  peoples,  —  something  that 
seems  to  say,  '  Be  as  fond  of  me  as  you  like,  and  it  is  a 
great  privilege  you  enjoy;  and  I,  on  my  side,  will  accord 
you  such  of  my  affections  as  I  set  no  particular  store  by.* 
Just  as  one  throws  small  coin  to  a  beggar." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Atlee!" 

"I  am  ashamed  to  own  that  I  have  seen  something  of 
this  kind  myself." 

"It  is  not  like  my  cousin  Cecil  to  behave  in  that 
fashion." 

"I  might  say,  Lady  Maude,  that  your  home  experiences 
of  people  would  prove  a  very  fallacious  guide  as  to  what 


THE  DRIVE.  oOo 

they  might  or  might  not  do  iii  a  society  of  whose  ways 
you  know  nothing." 

"A  man  of  honor  would  always  be  a  man  of  honor." 

"  There  are  men,  and  men  of  honor,  as  there  are  persons 
of  excellent  principles  with  delicate  moral  health,  and  they 
—  I  say  it  with  regret  —  must  be  satisfied  to  be  as  respect- 
ably conducted  as  they  are  able." 

''I  don't  think  you  like  Cecil,"  said  she,  half  puzzled  by 
his  subtlety,  but  hitting  what  she  thought  to  be  a  ''  blot.'' 

"It  is  difficult  for  me  to  tell  his  cousin  what  I  should 
like  to  say  in  answer  to  this  remark." 

"  Oh,  have  no  embarrassment  on  that  score.  There  are 
very  few  people  less  trammelled  by  the  ties  of  relationship 
than  we  are.  Speak  out,  and  if  you  want  to  say  anything 
particularly  severe,  have  no  fears  of  wounding  my  sus- 
ceptibilities." 

"  And  do  you  know.  Lady  Maude,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  of 
almost  confidential  meaning,  ''  this  was  the  very  thing  I  was 
dreading?  I  had  at  one  time  a  good  deal  of  Walpole's  in- 
timacy, —  I  '11  not  call  it  friendship,  for  somehow  there  were 
certain  differences  of  temperament  that  separated  us  con- 
tinually. We  could  commonly  agree  upon  the  same  things ; 
we  could  never  be  one-minded  about  the  same  people.  In 
my  experiences,  the  world  is  by  no  means  the  cold-hearted 
and  selfish  thing  he  deems  it;  and  yet  I  suppose.  Lady 
Maude,  if  there  were  to  be  a  verdict  given  upon  us  both, 
nine  out  of  ten  would  have  fixed  on  me  as  the  scoffer.  Is 
not  this  so?  " 

The  artfulness  with  which  he  had  contrived  to  make 
himself  and  his  character  a  question  of  discussion  achieved 
only  a  half  success,  for  she  only  gave  one  of  her  most 
meaningless  smiles  as  she  said,  "  I  do  not  know;  I  am 
not  quite  sure." 

"  And  yet  I  am  more  concerned  to  learn  what  you  would 
think  on  this  score  than  for  the  opinion  of  the  whole  world." 

Like  a  man  who  has  taken  a  leap  and  found  a  deep 
"drop"  on  the  other  side,  he  came  to  a  dead  halt  as  he 
saw  the  cold  and  impassive  look  her  features  had  assumed. 
He  would  have  given  worlds  to  recall  his  speech  and  stand 
as  he  did  before  it  was  uttered ;    for  though  she  did  not 


506  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

Bay  one  word,  there  was  that  in  her  calm  and  composed 
expression  which  reproved  all  that  savored  of  passionate 
appeal.  A  now-or-never  sort  of  courage  nerved  him,  and 
he  went  on:  "I  know  all  the  presumption  of  a  man  like 
myself  daring  to  address  such  words  to  3^ou,  Lady  Maude ; 
but  do  you  remember  that  though  all  eyes  but  one  saw  only 
fog-bank  in  the  horizon,  Columbus  maintained  there  was 
land  in  the  distance  ?  and  so  say  I,  '  He  who  would  lay  his 
fortunes  at  your  feet  now  sees  high  honors  and  great  re- 
wards awaiting  him  in  the  future.  It  is  with  you  to  say 
whether  these  honors  become  the  crowning  glories  of  a  life, 
or  all  pursuit  of  them  be  valueless  I '  May  I  —  dare  I 
hope?" 

''  This  is  Lebanon,"  said  she  ;  "  at  least  I  think  so ;  "  and 
she  held  her  glass  to  her  eye.  ''  Strange  caprice,  was  n't  it, 
to  call  her  house  Lebanon  because  of  those  wretched  cedars? 
Aunt  »]erningham  is  so  odd!" 

'^  There  is  a  crowd  of  carriages  here,"  said  Atlee,  en- 
deavoring to  speak  with  unconcern. 

''It  is  her  day;  she  likes  to  receive  on  Sundays,  as  she 
says  she  escapes  the  bishops.  By  the  way,  did  you  tell 
me  you  were  an  old  friend  of  hers,  or  did  I  dream  it?" 

''I'm  afraid  it  was  the  vision  revealed  it?" 

"Because,  if  so,  I  must  not  take  you  in.  She  has  a 
rule  against  all  presentations  on  Sundays,  —  they  are  only 
her  intimates  she  receives  on  that  day.  We  shall  have  to 
return  as  we  came." 

"Not  for  worlds.  Pray  let  me  not  prove  an  embarrass- 
ment. You  can  make  your  visit,  and  I  will  go  back  on 
foot.     Indeed,  I  should  like  a  walk." 

"On  no  account!  Take  the  carriage,  and  send  it  back 
for  me.     I  shall  remain  here  till  afternoon  tea." 

"  Thanks,  but  I  hold  to  my  walk." 

"It  is  a  charming  day,  and  I'm  sure  a  walk  will  be 
delightful." 

"  Am  I  to  suppose,  Lady  Maude,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice, 
as  he  assisted  her  to  alight,  "  that  you  will  deign  me  a  more 
formal  answer  at  another  time  to  the  words  I  ventured  to 
address  you?  May  I  live  in  the  hope  that  I  shall  yet  regard 
this  day  as  the  most  fortunate  of  my  life  ?  " 


THE   DRIVE.  507 

*' It  is  wonderful  weather  for  November, — an  English 
November,  too.  Pray  let  me  assure  you  that  you  need  not 
make  yourself  uneasy  about  what  you  were  speaking  of.  I 
shall  not  mention  it  to  any  one,  least  of  all  to  '  my  Lord ;  * 
and  as  for  myself,  it  shall  be  as  completely  forgotten  as 
though  it  had  never  been  uttered." 

And  she  held  out  her  hand  with  a  sort  of  cordial  frank- 
ness that  actually  said,  ''  There,  you  are  forgiven  !  Is  there 
any  record  of  generosity  like  this  ?  " 

Atlee  bowed  low  and  resignedly  over  that  gloved  hand, 
which  he  felt  he  was  touching  for  the  last  time,  and  turned 
away  with  a  rush  of  thoughts  through  his  brain,  in  which 
certainly  the  pleasantest  were  not  the  predominating  ones. 

He  did  not  dine  that  day  at  Bruton  Street,  and  only 
returned  about  ten  o'clock,  when  he  knew  he  should  find 
Lord  Danesbury  in  his  study. 

'*  I  have  determined,  my  Lord,"  said  he,  with  somewhat 
of  decision  in  his  tone  that  savored  of  a  challenge,  "  to  go 
over  to  Ireland  by  the  morning  mail." 

Too  much  engrossed  by  his  own  thoughts  to  notice  the 
other's  manner,  Lord  Danesbury  merely  turned  from  the 
papers  before  him  to  say,  "Ah,  indeed!  it  would  be  very 
well  done.  We  were  talking  about  that,  were  we  not, 
yesterday?     What  was  it?" 

"  The  Greek,  —  Kostalergi's  daughter,  my  Lord?  " 

"To  be  sure.  You  are  incredulous  about  her,  ain't 
you?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  Lord,  I  opine  that  the  fellow  has 
told  us  the  truth.  I  believe  he  has  a  daughter,  and  destines 
this  money  to  be  her  dowry." 

' '  With  all  my  heart ;  I  do  not  see  how  it  should  concern 
me.  If  I  am  to  pay  the  money,  it  matters  very  little  to  me 
whether  he  invests  it  in  a  Greek  husband  or  the  Double 
Zero,  —  speculations,  I  take  it,  pretty  much  alike.  Have 
you  sent  a  telegram  ?  " 

"  I  have,  my  Lord.  I  have  engaged  your  Lordship's  word 
that  you  are  willing  to  treat." 

"Just  so;  it  is  exactly  what  I  am!  Willing  to  treat, 
willing  to  hear  argument,  and  reply  with  my  own,  why  1 
should  give  more  for  anything  than  it  is  worth." 


508  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

"  We  need  not  discuss  further  what  we  can  only  regard 
from  one  point  of  view,  and  that  our  own." 

Lord  Danesbury  started.  The  altered  tone  and  manner 
struck  him  now  for  the  first  time,  and  he  threw  his  spectacles 
on  the  table  and  stared  at  the  speaker  with  astonishment. 

"There  is  another  point,  my  Lord,"  continued  Atlee,  with 
unbroken  calm,  "  that  I  should  like  to  ask  your  Lordship's 
judgment  upon,  as  I  shall  in  a  few  hours  be  in  Ireland, 
where  the  question  will  present  itself.  There  was  some  time 
ago  in  Ireland  a  case  brought  under  your  Lordship's  notice  of 
a  very  gallant  resistance  made  by  a  family  against  an  armed 
party  who  attacked  a  house,  and  your  Lordship  was  gra- 
ciously pleased  to  say  that  some  recognition  should  be 
offered  to  one  of  the  sons,  —  something  to  show  how  the 
Government  regarded  and  approved  his  spirited  conduct." 

"  I  know,  I  know ;  but  I  am  no  longer  the  Viceroy." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,  my  Lord,  nor  is  your  successor 
appointed ;  but  any  suggestion  or  wish  of  your  Lordship's 
would  be  accepted  by  the  Lords  Justices  with  great  defer- 
ence, all  the  more  in  payment  of  a  debt.  If,  then,  your 
Lordship  would  recommend  this  young  man  for  the  first 
vacancy  in  the  constabulary,  or  some  place  in  the  Customs, 
it  -would  satisfy  a  most  natural  expectation,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  evidence  your  Lordship's  interest  for  the  country 
you  so  late  ruled  over." 

''  There  is  nothing  more  pernicious  than  forestalling  other 
people's  patronage,  Atlee.  Not  but  if  this  thing  was  to  be 
done  for  yourself  —  " 

''  Pardon  me,  my  Lord,  I  do  not  desire  anything  for 
myself." 

"  Well,  be  it  so.  Take  this  to  the  Chancellor  or  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief," —  and  he  scribbled  a  few  hasty  lines  as  he 
talked, —  "  and  say  what  you  can  in  support  of  it.  If  they 
give  you  something  good,  I  shall  be  heartily  glad  of  it,  and 
I  wish  you  years  to  enjoy  it." 

Atlee  only  smiled  at  the  warmth  of  interest  for  him  whicli 
was  linked  with  such  a  shortness  of  memory,  but  was  too 
much  wounded  in  his  pride  to  reply.  And  now,  as  he  saw 
that  his  Lordship  had  replaced  his  glasses  and  resumed  his 
work,  he  walked  noiselessly  to  the  door  and  withdrew. 


CHAPTER   LXXII. 

THE    SAUNTER   IN    TOWN. 

As  Atlee  sauntered  along  towards  Downing  Street,  whence 
he  purposed  to  despatch  his  telegram  to  Greece,  he  thought 
a  good  deal  of  his  late  interview  with  Lord  Danesbury. 
There  was  much  in  it  that  pleased  him.  He  had  so  far 
succeeded  in  re  Kostalergi,  that  the  case  was  not  scouted 
out  of  court;  the  matter,  at  least,  was  to  be  entertained,  and 
even  that  was  something.  The  fascination  of  a  scheme  to 
be  developed,  an  intrigue  to  be  worked  out,  had  for  his 
peculiar  nature  a  charm  little  short  of  ecstasy.  The  demand 
upon  his  resources  for  craft  and  skill,  concealment  and 
duplicity,  was  only  second  in  his  estimation  to  the  delight 
he  felt  at  measuring  his  intellect  with  some  other,  and 
seeing  whether,  in  the  game  of  subtlety,  he  had  his  master. 

Next  to  this,  but  not  without  a  long  interval,  was  the 
pleasure  he  felt  at  the  terms  in  which  Lord  Danesbury  spoke 
of  him.  No  orator  accustomed  to  hold  an  assembly  en- 
thralled by  his  eloquence,  no  actor  habituated  to  sway  the 
passions  of  a  crowded  theatre,  is  more  susceptible  to  the 
promptings  of  personal  vanity  than  your  "practised  talker." 
The  man  who  devotes  himself  to  be  a  "success"  in  conver- 
sation glories  more  in  his  triumphs,  and  sets  a  greater 
value  on  his  gifts,  than  any  other  I  know  of. 

That  men  of  mark  and  station  desired  to  meet  him,  that 
men  whose  position  secured  to  them  the  advantage  of  asso- 
ciating with  the  pleasantest  people  and  the  freshest  minds 
—  men  who  commanded,  so  to  say,  the  best  talking  in 
society  —  wished  to  confer  with  and  to  hear  him^  was  an 
intense  flattery,  and  he  actually  longed  for  the  occasion  of 
display.  He  had  learned  a  good  deal  since  he  had  left  Ire- 
land.    He  had  less  of  that  fluency  which  Irishmen  cultivate, 


510  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

seldom  ventured  on  an  epigram,  never  on  an  anecdote, 
was  guardedly  circumspect  as  to  statements  of  fact,  and, 
on  the  whole,  liked  to  understate  his  case,  and  affect  dis- 
trust of  his  own  opinion.  Though  there  was  not  one  of 
these  which  were  not  more  or  less  restrictions  on  him,  he 
could  be  brilliant  and  witty  when  occasion  served ;  and  there 
was  an  incisive  neatness  in  his  repartee  in  which  he  had  no 
equal.  Some  of  those  he  was  to  meet  were  well  known 
amongst  the  most  agreeable  people  of  society,  and  he  re- 
joiced that,  at  least,  if  he  were  to  be  put  upon  his  trial,  he 
should  be  judged  by  his  peers. 

With  all  these  flattering  prospects,  was  it  not  strange  that 
his  Lordship  never  dropped  a  word,  nor  even  a  hint,  as  to 
his  personal  career?  He  had  told  him,  indeed,  that  he 
could  not  hope  for  success  at  Cradford,  and  laughingly  said, 
"You  have  left  Odger  miles  behind  you  in  your  Radicalism. 
Up  to  this,  we  have  had  no  Parliament  in  England  suffi- 
ciently advanced  for  your  opinions."  On  the  whole,  how- 
ever, if  not  followed  up,  —  which  Lord  Danesbury  strongly 
objected  to  its  being,  —  he  said  there  was  no  great  harm  in 
a  young  man  making  his  first  advances  in  political  life  by 
something  startling.  They  are  only  fireworks,  it  is  true; 
the  great  requisite  is  that  they  be  brilliant,  and  do  not  go 
out  with  a  smoke  and  a  bad  smell ! 

Beyond  this  he  had  told  him  nothing.  Was  he  minded 
to  take  him  out  to  Turkey,  and  as  what?  He  had  already 
explained  to  him  that  the  old  days  in  which  a  clever  fellow 
could  be  drafted  at  once  into  a  secretaryship  of  Embassy 
were  gone  by;  that  though  a  Parliamentary  title  was  held 
to  supersede  all  others,  whether  in  the  case  of  a  man  or 
a  landed  estate,  it  was  all-essential  to  be  in  the  House  for 
that^  and  that  a  diplomatist,  like  a  sweep,  must  begin  when 
he  is  little. 

"As  his  private  secretary,"  thought  he,  "  the  position  is  at 
once  fatal  to  all  my  hopes  with  regard  to  Lady  Maude." 
There  was  not  a  woman  living  more  certain  to  measure  a 
man's  pretensions  by  his  station.  "Hitherto  I  have  not 
been  '  classed. '  I  might  be  anybody,  or  go  anywhere.  My 
wide  capabilities  seemed  to  say  that  if  I  descended  to  do 
small  things,  it  would  be  quite  as  easy  for  me  to  do  great 


THE   SAUNTER  IN  TOWN.  511 

ones;  and  though  I  copied  despatches,  they  would  have 
been  rather  better  if  I  had  drafted  them  also." 

Lady  Maude  knew  this.  She  knew  the  esteem  in  which 
her  uncle  held  him.  She  knew  how  that  uncle,  shrewd 
man  of  the  world  as  he  was,  valued  the  sort  of  qualities  he 
saw  in  him,  and  could,  better  than  most  men,  decide  how 
far  such  gifts  were  marketable,  and  what  price  they  brought 
to  their  possessor. 

"And  yet,"  cried  he,  "they  don't  know  one  half  of  me! 
What  would  they  say  if  they  knew  that  it  was  I  wrote  the 
great  paper  on  Turkish  Finance  in  the  '  Memorial  Diplo- 
matique, '  and  the  review  of  it  in  the  '  Quarterly ; '  that  it 
was  I  who  exposed  the  miserable  compromise  of  Thiers 
with  Gambetta  in  the  'Debats,'  and  defended  him  in  the 
*  Daily  News;  '  that  the  hysterical  scream  of  the  '  Kreutz 
Zeitung,'  and  the  severe  article  on  Bismarck  in  the  '  Fort- 
nightly '  were  both  mine ;  and  that  at  this  moment  I  am 
urging  in  the  '  Pike '  how  the  Fenian  prisoners  must  be 
amnestied,  and  showing  in  a  London  review  that  if  they  are 
liberated  Mr.  Gladstone  should  be  attainted  for  high  trea- 
son? I  should  like  well  to  let  them  know  all  this;  and  I  'm 
not  sure  I  would  not  risk  all  the  consequences  to  do  it." 

And  then  he  as  suddenly  bethought  him  how  little  account 
men  of  letters  were  held  in  by  the  Lady  Maudes  of  this 
world;  what  a  humble  place  they  assigned  them  socially, 
and  how  small  they  estimated  their  chances  of  worldly 
success ! 

"  It  is  the  unreal  ism  of  literature  as  a  career  strikes  them ; 
and  they  cannot  see  how  men  are  to  assure  themselves  of  the 
'  quoi  vivre '  by  providing  what  so  few  want,  and  even  they 
could  exist  without." 

It  was  in  a  revery  of  this  fashion  he  walked  the  streets, 
as  little  cognizant  of  the  crowd  around  him  as  if  he  were 
sauntering  along  some  rippling  stream  in  a  mountain  gorge. 


CHAPTER   LXXIII. 

A  DARKENED   ROOM. 

The  "comatose"  state,  to  use  the  language  of  the  doctors, 
into  which  Gorman  O'Shea  had  fallen,  had  continued  so  long 
as  to  excite  the  greatest  apprehensions  of  his  friends ;  for  al- 
though not  amounting  to  complete  insensibility,  it  left  him 
so  apathetic  and  indifferent  to  everything  and  every  one, 
that  the  girls,  Kate  and  Nina,  in  pure  despair,  had  given 
up  reading  or  talking  to  him,  and  passed  their  hours  of 
"watching"  in  perfect  silence  in  the  half-darkened  room. 

The  stern  immobility  of  his  pale  features,  the  glassy 
and  meaningless  stare  of  his  large  blue  eyes,  the  unvarying 
rhythm  of  a  long-drawn  respiration,  were  signs  that  at 
length  became  more  painful  to  contemplate  than  evidences 
of  actual  suffering;  and  as  day  by  day  went  on,  and  interest 
grew  more  and  more  eager  about  the  trial,  which  was  fixed 
for  the  coming  Assize,  it  was  pitiable  to  see  him,  whose 
fate  was  so  deeply  pledged  on  the  issue,  unconscious  of  all 
that  went  on  around  him,  and  not  caring  to  know  any  of 
those  details  the  very  least  of  which  might  determine  his 
future  lot. 

The  instructions  drawn  up  for  the  defence  were  sadly  in 
need  of  the  sort  of  information  which  the  sick  man  alone 
could  supply;  and  Nina  and  Kate  had  both  been  entreated 
to  watch  for  the  first  favorable  moment  that  should  present 
itself,  and  ask  certain  questions,  the  answers  to  which 
would  be  of  the  last  importance. 

Though  Gill's  affidavit  gave  many  evidences  of  unscrupu- 
lous falsehood,  there  was  no  counter-evidence  to  set  against 
it,  and  O'Shea's  counsel  complained  strongly  of  the  meagre 
instructions  which  were  briefed  to  him  in  the  case,  and  his 
utter  inability  to  construct  a  defence  upon  them. 


A  DARKENED  ROOM.  513 

"He  said  he  would  tell  me  something  this  evening,  Kate," 
said  Nina;  "so,  if  you  will  let  me,  I  will  go  in  your  place 
and  remind  him  of  his  promise." 

This  hopeful  sign  of  returning  intelligence  was  so  gratify- 
ing to  Kate  that  she  readily  consented  to  the  proposition  of 
her  cousin  taking  her  ''watch,"  and,  if  possible,  learning 
something  of  his  wishes. 

"He  said  it,"  continued  Nina,  "like  one  talking  to  him- 
self, and  it  was  not  easy  to  follow  him.  The  words,  as  well 
as  I  could  make  out,  were  '  I  will  say  it  to-day,  —  this  even- 
ing, if  T  can.  When  it  is  said, '  —  here  he  muttered  some- 
thing ;  but  1  cannot  say  whether  the  words  were  '  My  mind 
will  be  at  rest, '  or  '  I  shall  be  at  rest  f orevermore. '  " 

Kate  did  not  utter  a  word ;  but  her  eyes  swam,  and  two 
large  tears  stole  slowly  down  her  face. 

"His  own  conviction  is  that  he  is  dying,"  said  Nina;  but 
Kate  never  spoke. 

.  "The  doctors  persist,"  continued  Nina,  "in  declaring  that 
this  depression  is  only  a  well-known  symptom  of  the  attack, 
and  that  all  affections  of  the  brain  are  marked  by  a  certain 
tone  of  despondency.  They  even  say  more,  and  that  the 
cases  where  this  symptom  predominates  are  more  frequently 
followed  by  recovery.     Are  you  listening  to  me,  child?" 

"No;  I  was  following  some  thoughts  of  my  own." 

"  I  was  merely  telling  you  why  I  think  he  is  getting  better." 

Kate  leaned  her  head  on  her  cousin's  shoulder,  and  she 
did  not  speak.  The  heaving  motion  of  her  shoulders  and 
her  chest  betrayed  the  agitation  she  could  not  subdue. 

"I  wish  his  aunt  were  here;  I  see  how  her  absence  frets 
him.     Is  she  too  ill  for  the  journey?  "  asked  Nina. 

"She  says  not,  and  she  seems  in  some  way  to  be  coerced 
by  others ;  but  a  telegram  this  morning  announces  she  would 
try  and  reach  Kilgobbin  this  evening." 

"What  could  coercion  mean?    Surely  this  is  mere  fancy?  " 

"1  am  not  so  certain  of  that.  The  convent  has  great  hopes 
of  inheriting  her  fortune.  She  is  rich,  and  she  is  a  devout 
Catholic;  and  we  have  heard  of  cases  where  zeal  for  the 
Church  has  pushed  discretion  very  far." 

"What  a  worldly  creature  it  is!  "  cried  Nina;  "and  who 
would  have  suspected  it?  " 

33 


514  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"I  do  not  see  the  worldliness  of  my  believing  that  people 
will  do  much  to  serve  the  cause  they  follow.  When  chem- 
ists tell  us  that  there  is  no  finding  such  a  thing  as  a  glass  of 
pure  water,  where  are  we  to  go  for  pure  motives  ?  " 

"To  one's  heart,  of  course,"  said  Nina;  but  the  curl  of 
her  perfectly  cut  lip,  as  she  said  it,  scarcely  vouched  for  the 
sincerity. 

On  that  same  evening,  just  as  the  last  flickerings  of  twi- 
light were  dying  away,  Nina  stole  into  the  sick-room, 
and  took  her  place  noiselessly  beside  the  bed. 

Slowly  moving  his  arm  without  turning  his  head,  or  by 
any  gesture  whatever  acknowledging  her  presence,  he  took 
her  hand  and  pressed  it  to  his  burning  lips,  and  then  laid  it 
upon  his  cheek.  She  made  no  effort  to  withdraw  her  hand, 
and  sat  perfectly  still  and  motionless. 

"Are  we  alone?  "  whispered  he,  in  a  voice  hardly  audible. 

"Yes,  quite  alone." 

"If  I  should  say  what  —  displease  you,"  faltered  he,  his 
agitation  making  speech  even  more  difficult;  "how  shall 
I  tell  ?  "     And  once  more  he  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips. 

"No,  no;  have  no  fears  of  displeasing  me.  Say  what  you 
would  like  to  tell  me." 

"It  is  this,  then,"  said  he,  with  an  effort.  "I  am  dying- 
with  my  secret  in  my  heart.  I  am  dying,  to  carry  away 
with  me  the  love  I  am  not  to  tell,  — my  love  for  you,  Kate." 

"I  am  not  Kate,"  was  almost  on  her  lips;  but  he;'  struggle 
to  keep  silent  was  aided  by  that  desire  so  strong  in  her 
nature,  —  to  follow  out  a  situation  of  difficulty  to  the  end. 
She  did  not  love  him,  nor  did  she  desire  his  love;  but  a 
strange  sense  of  injury  at  hearing  his  profession  of  love 
for  another  shot  a  pang  of  intense  suffering  through  her 
heart,  and  she  lay  back  in  her  chair  with  a  cold  feeling  of 
sickness  like  fainting.  The  overpowering  passion  of  her 
nature  was  jealousy ;  and  to  share  even  the  admiration  of  a 
salon,  the  "passing  homage,"  as  such  deference  is  called, 
with  another,  was  a  something  no  effort  of  her  generosity 
could  compass. 

Though  she  did  not  speak,  she  suffered  her  hand  to  remain 
unresistingly  within  his  own.  After  a  short  pause  he 
went  on;  "I  thought  yesterday  that  I  was  dying;  and  in 


A  DARKENED  ROOM.  515 

my  rambling  intellect  I  thought  I  took  leave  of  you ;  and 
do  you  know  my  last  words,  —  my  last  words,  Kate  ?  " 

'•No;  what  were  they?" 

"My  last  words  were  these:  '  Beware  of  the  Greek;  have 
no  friendship  with  the  Greek. '  " 

''  And  why  that  warning  ?  "  said  she,  in  a  low,  faint  voice. 

"She  is  not  of  us,  Kate;  none  of  her  ways  or  thoughts  are 
ours,  nor  would  they  suit  us.  She  is  subtle  and  clever 
and  sly;  and  these  only  mislead  those  who  lead  simple 
lives." 

"May  it  not  be  that  you  wrong  her?" 

"I  have  tried  to  learn  her  nature." 

"Not  to  love  it?" 

"I  believe  1  was  beginning  to  love  her  —  juwst  when  you 
were  cold  to  me.     You  remember  when  ?  " 

"  I  do ;  and  it  was  this  coldness  was  the  cause  ?  Was  it 
the  only  cause  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  She  has  wiles  and  ways  which,  with  her  beauty, 
make  her  nigh  irresistible." 

"And  now  you  are  cured  of  this  passion?  There  is  no 
trace  of  it  in  your  breast?" 

"Not  a  vestige.     But  why  speak  of  her?  " 

"Perhaps  I  am  Jealous." 

Once  more  he  pressed  his  lips  to  her  hand,  and  kissed  it 
rapturously. 

"No,  Kate,"  cried  he,  "none  but  you  have  the  place  in 
my  heart.  Whenever  I  have  tried  a  treason  it  has  turned 
against  me.  Is  there  light  enough  in  the  room  to  find  a 
small  portfolio  of  red-brown  leather?  It  is  on  that  table 
yonder." 

Had  the  darkness  been  not  almost  complete,  Nina  would 
scarcely  have  ventured  to  rise  and  cross  the  room,  so  fearful 
was  she  of  being  recognized. 

"It  is  locked,"  said  she,  as  she  laid  it  beside  him  on  the" 
bed ;  but  touching  a  secret  spring,  he  opened  it,  and  passed 
his  fingers  hurriedly  through  the  papers  within. 

"I  believe  it  must  be  this,"  said  he.  "I  think  I  know 
the  feel  of  the  paper.  It  is  a  telegram  from  my  aunt ;  the 
doctor  gave  it  to  me  last  night.  We  read  it  over  together 
four  or  five  times.     This  is  it,  and  these  are  the  words:  '  If 


516  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

Kate  will  be  your  wife,  the  estate  of  O' Shea's  Barn  is  your 
own  forever. '  " 

''Is  she  to  have  no  time  to  think  over  this  offer?"  asked 
she. 

"Would  you  like  candles,  miss?  "  asked  a  maid-servant, 
of  whose  presence  there  neither  of  the  others  had  been 
aware. 

"No,  nor  are  you  wanted,"  said  Nina,  haughtily,  as  she 
arose ;  while  it  was  not  without  some  difficulty  she  withdrew 
her  hand  from  the  sick  man's  grasp. 

"I  know,''  said  he,  falteringly,  "you  would  not  leave  me 
if  you  had  not  left  hope  to  keep  me  company  in  your 
absence.     Is  not  that  so,  Kate?" 

"By-by,"  said  she,  softly,  and  stole  away. 


CHAPTER   LXXIV. 

AN   ANGRY   COLLOQUY. 

It  was  with  passionate  eagerness  Nina  set  off  in  search  of 
Kate.  Why  she  should  have  felt  herself  wronged,  outraged, 
insulted  even,  is  not  so  easy  to  say;  nor  shall  I  attempt 
any  analysis  of  the  complex  web  of  sentiments  which,  so  to 
say,  spread  itself  over  her  faculties.  The  man  who  had  so 
wounded  her  self-love  had  been  at  her  feet;  he  had  followed 
her  in  her  walks,  hung  over  the  piano  as  she  sang,  —  shown 
by  a  thousand  signs  that  sort  of  devotion  by  which  men 
intimate  that  their  lives  have  but  one  solace,  one  ecstasy, 
one  joy.  By  what  treachery  had  he  been  moved  to  all  this, 
if  he  really  loved  another?  That  he  was  simply  amusing 
himself  with  the  sort  of  flirtation  she  herself  could  take  up 
as  a  mere  pastime  was  not  to  be  believed.  That  the  wor- 
shipper should  be  insincere  in  his  worship  was  too  dreadful 
to  think  of.  And  yet  it  was  to  this  very  man  she  had  once 
turned  to  avenge  herself  on  Walpole's  treatment  of  her;  she 
had  even  said,  "Could  you  not  make  a  quarrel  with  him?'* 
Now,  no  woman  of  foreign  breeding  puts  such  a  question 
without  the  perfect  consciousness  that,  in  accepting  a  man's 
championship,  she  has  virtually  admitted  his  devotion. 
Her  own  levity  of  character,  the  thoughtless  indifference 
with  which  she  would  sport  with  any  man's  affections,  so 
far  from  inducing  her  to  palliate  such  caprices,  made  her 
more  severe  and  unforgiving.  "How  shall  1  punish  him 
for  this?  How  shall  I  make  him  remember  whom  it  is  he 
has  insulted?"  repeated  she  over  and  over  to  herself  as  she 
went. 

The  servants  passed  her  on  the  stairs  with  trunks   and 
luggage  of  various  kinds ;  but  she  was  too  much  engrossed 


518  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

with  her  own  thoughts  to  notice  them.  Suddenly  the  words, 
*'Mr.  Walpole's  room,"  caught  her  ear,  and  she  asked, 
"Has  any  one  come?" 

Yes;  two  gentlemen  had  just  arrived.  A  third  was  to 
come  that  night,  and  Miss  O'Shea  might  be  expected  at  any 
moment. 

Where  was  Miss  Kate?  she  inquired. 

"In  her  own  room  at  the  top  of  the  house." 

Thither  she  hastened  at  once. 

"Be  a  dear  good  girl,"  cried  Kate,  as  Nina  entered,  "and 
help  me  in  my  many  embarrassments.  Here  are  a  flood  of 
visitors  all  coming  unexpectedly.  Major  Lockwood  and 
Mr.  Walpole  have  come.  Miss  Betty  will  be  here  for 
dinner;  and  Mr.  Atlee,  whom  we  all  believed  to  be  in  Asia, 
may  arrive  to-night.  I  shall  be  able  to  feed  them;  but 
how  to  lodge  them  with  any  pretension  to  comfort  is  more 
than  I  can  see" 

"I  am  in  little  humor  to  aid  any  one.  I  have  my  own 
troubles, — worse  ones,  perhaps,  than  playing  hostess  to 
disconsolate  travellers." 

"And  what  are  your  troubles,  dear  Nina?" 

"I  have  half  a  mind  not  to  tell  you.  You  ask  me  with 
that  supercilious  air  that  seems  to  say,  '  How  can  a  creature 
like  you  be  of  interest  enough  to  any  one  or  anything  to 
have  a  difficulty  ?  '  " 

"I  force  no  confidences,"  said  the  other,  coldly. 

"  For  that  reason,  you  shall  have  them,  —  at  least,  this 
one.  What  will  you  say  when  I  tell  you  that  young  O'Shea 
has  made  me  a  declaration,  —  a  formal  declaration  of 
love?" 

"I  should  say  that  you  need  not  speak  of  it  as  an  insult 
nor  an  offence." 

"Indeed!  and  if  so,  you  would  say  what  was  perfectly 
wrong.  It  was  both  insult  and  offence,  —  yes,  both.  Do 
you  know  that  the  man  mistook  me  for  you,  and  called  me 
Kate  ?  " 

"How  could  this  be  possible?  " 

"In  a  darkened  room,  with  a  sick  man  slowly  rallying 
from  a  long  attack  of  stupor;  nothing  of  me  to  be  seen  but 
my  hand,  which  he  devoured  with  kisses,  —  raptures,   in- 


AN  ANGRY  COLLOQUY.  519 

deed,  Kate,  of  which  I  had  no  conception  till  I  experienced 
them  by  counterfeit !  " 

"Oh!  Nina,  this  is  not  fair!  " 

"It  is  true,  child.  The  man  caught  my  hand,  and  declared 
he  would  never  quit  it  till  I  promised  it  should  be  his  own. 
Nor  was  he  content  with  this ;  but,  anticipating  his  right 
to  be  lord  and  master,  he  bade  you  to  beware  of  me! 
'  Beware  of  that  Greek  girl !  '  were  his  words,  —  words 
strengthened  by  what  he  said  of  my  character  and  my  tem- 
perament. I  shall  spare  you,  and  I  shall  spare  myself  his 
acute  comments  on  the  nature  he  dreaded  to  see  in  compan- 
ionship with  his  wife.  I  have  had  good  training  in  learn- 
ing these  unbiassed  judgments,  —  my  early  life  abounded 
in  such  experiences;  but  this  young  gentleman's  cautions 
were  candor  itself." 

"I  am  sincerely  sorry  for  what  has  pained  you." 

"I  did  not  say  it  was  this  boy's  foolish  words  had 
wounded  me  so  acutely.  I  could  bear  sterner  critics  than 
he  is;  his  very  blundering  misconception  of  me  would 
always  plead  his  pardon.  How  could  he,  or  how  could  they 
with  whom  he  lived  and  talked  and  smoked  and  swaggered, 
know  of  me,  or  such  as  me?  What  could  there  be  in  the 
monotonous  vulgarity  of  their  tiresome  lives  that  should 
teach  them  what  we  are,  or  what  we  wish  to  be?  By  what 
presumption  did  he  dare  to  condemn  all  that  he  could  not 
understand  ?  " 

"You  are  angry,  Nina;  and  I  will  not  say,  without  some 
cause." 

"What  ineffable  generosity!  You  can  really  constrain 
yourself  to  believe  that  I  have  been  insulted !  " 

"I  should  not  say  insulted." 

"You  cannot  be  an  honest  judge  in  such  a  cause.  Every 
outrage  offered  to  me  was  an  act  of  homage  to  yourself. 
If  you  but  knew  how  I  burned  to  tell  him  who  it  was  whose 
hand  he  held  in  his,  and  to  whose  ears  he  had  poured  out 
his  raptures!  To  tell  him,  too,  how  the  Greek  girl  would 
have  resented  his  presumption  had  he  but  dared  to  indulge 
it!  One  of  the  women  servants,  it  would  seem,  was  a  wit- 
ness to  this  boy's  declaration.  I  think  it  was  Mary  was  in 
the  room ;  I  do  not  know  for  how  long,  but  she  announced 


520  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

her  presence  by  asking  some  question  about  candles.  In 
fact,  I  shall  have  become  a  servants' -hall  scandal  by  this 
time." 

"There  need  not  be  any  fear  of  that,  Nina;  there  are  no 
bad  tongues  amongst  our  people." 

"I  know  all  that.  I  know  we  live  amidst  human  perfecti- 
bilities, —  all  of  Irish  manufacture,  and  warranted  to  be 
genuine." 

"I  would  hope  that  some  of  your  impressions  of  Ireland 
are  not  unfavorable  ?  " 

"I  scarcely  know.  I  suppose  you  understand  each  other, 
and  are  tolerant  about  capricious  moods  and  ways  which  to 
strangers  might  seem  to  have  a  deeper  significance.  I  be- 
lieve you  are  not  as  hasty  or  as  violent  or  as  rash  as  you 
seem;  and  I  am  sure  you  are  not  as  impulsive  in  your 
generosity,  or  as  headlong  in  your  affections.  Not  exactly 
that  you  mean  to  be  false,  but  you  are  hypocrites  to  your- 
selves." 

"A  very  flattering  picture  of  us." 

"I  do  not  mean  to  flatter  you;  and  it  is  to  this  end  I  say, 
you  are  Italians  without  the  subtlety  of  the  Italian,  and 
Greeks  without  their  genius.  You  need  not  courtesy  so 
profoundly.  I  could  say  worse  than  this,  Kate,  if  I  were 
minded  to  do  so." 

"Pray  do  not  be  so  minded,  then.  Pray  remember  that, 
even  when  you  wound  me,  I  cannot  return  the  thrust." 

"I  know  what  you  mean,"  cried  Nina,  rapidly.  ''You 
are  veritable  Arabs  in  your  estimate  of  hospitality;  and 
he  who  has  eaten  your  salt  is  sacred." 

"You  remind  me  of  what  I  had  nigh  forgotten,  Nina,  — 
of  our  coming  guests." 

"Do  you  know  why  Walpole  and  his  friend  are  coming?  " 

"They  are  already  come,  Nina,  —  they  are  out  walking 
with  papa;  but  what  has  brought  them  here  I  cannot  guess, 
and,  since  I  have  heard  your  description  of  Ireland,  I  can* 
not  imagine." 

said  she,  indolently,  and  moved  away. 


CHAPTER   LXXV. 

MATHEW  Kearney's  reflections. 

To  have  his  house  full  of  company,  to  see  his  table  crowded 
with  guests,  was  nearer  perfect  happiness  than  anything 
Kearney  knew;  and  when  he  set  out,  the  morning  after  the 
arrival  of  the  strangers,  to  show  Major  Lockwood  where  he 
would  find  a  brace  of  woodcocks,  the  old  man  was  in  such 
spirits  as  he  had  not  known  for  years. 

"Why  don't  your  friend  Walpole  come  with  us?"  asked 
he  of  his  companion,  as  they  trudged  across  the  bog. 

*' I  believe  I  can  guess,"  mumbled  out  the  other;  ''but 
I  'm  not  quite  sure  I  ought  to  tell." 

"  I  see,"  said  Kearney,  with  a  knowing  leer ;  "  he  's  afraid 
I  '11  roast  him  about  that  unlucky  despatch  he  wrote.  He 
thinks  I  '11  give  him  no  peace  about  that  bit  of  stupidity ; 
for  you  see,  Major,  it  was  stupid,  and  nothing  less.  Of  all 
the  things  we  despise  in  Ireland,  take  my  word  for  it,  there 
is  nothing  we  think  so  little  of  as  a  weak  government.  We 
can  stand  up  strong  and  bold  against  hard  usage,  and  we 
gain  self-respect  by  resistance ;  but  when  you  come  down  to 
conciliations  and  what  you  call  healing  measures,  we  feel  as 
if  you  were  going  to  humbug  us,  and  there  is  not  a  devil- 
ment comes  into  our  heads  we  would  not  do,  just  to  see  how 
you  '11  bear  it ;  and  it 's  then  your  London  newspapers  cry 
out :  '  What 's  the  use  of  doing  anything  for  Ireland  ?  We 
pulled  down  the  Church,  and  we  robbed  the  landlords,  and 
we  're  now  going  to  back  Cardinal  Cullen  for  them,  and  there 

-        they  are  murthering  away  as  bad  as  ever.'  " 

I  ''Is  it  not  true?  "  asked  the  Major. 

"  And  whose  fault  if  it  is  true?  Who  has  broke  down  the 
laws  in  Ireland  but  yourselves  ?     We  Irish  never  said  that 

|;       many  things  you  called  crimes  were  bad  in  morals,  and  when 


522  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

it  occurs  to  you  now  to  doubt  if  they  are  crimes,  I  'd  like  to 
ask  you,  why  would  n't  we  do  them  ?  You  won't  give  us  our 
independence,  and  so  we  '11  fight  for  it ;  and  though,  maybe, 
we  can't  lick  you,  we'll  make  your  life  so  uncomfortable  to 
you,  keeping  us  down,  that  you '11  beg  a  compromise, — a 
healing  measure,  you'll  call  it, — just  as  when  I  won't  give 
Tim  Sullivan  a  lease,  he  takes  a  shot  at  me ;  and  as  I  reckon 
the  holes  in  my  hat,  I  think  better  of  it,  and  take  a  pound 
or  two  off  his  rent." 

"  So  that,  in  fact,  you  court  the  policy  of  conciliation?" 

"Only  because  I'm  weak.  Major,  —  because  I'm  weak, 
and  that  I  must  live  in  the  neighborhood.  If  I  could  pass 
my  days  out  of  the  range  o^  Tim's  carbine,  I  wouldn't 
reduce  him  a  shilling." 

"  I  can  make  nothing  of  Ireland  or  Irishmen  either." 

"  Why  would  you  ?  God  help  us  !  -we  are  poor  enough  and 
wretched  enough ;  but  we  're  not  come  down  to  that  yet  that 
a  Major  of  Dragoons  can  read  us  like  big  print." 

"  So  far  as  I  see  you  wish  for  a  strong  despotism." 

"  In  one  way  it  w^ould  suit  us  well.  Do  you  see.  Major, 
what  a  weak  administration  and  uncertain  laws  do?  They 
set  every  man  in  Ireland  about  righting  himself  by  his  own 
hand.  If  I  know  I  shall  be  starved  when  I  am  turned  out 
,  of  my  holding,  I  'm  not  at  all  so  sure  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  shoot 
my  landlord.  Make  me  as  certain  of  the  one  as  the  other, 
and  I  '11  not  shoot  him." 

"  I  believe  I  understand  you." 

"  No,  you  don't,  nor  any  Cockney  among  you." 

"  I  'm  not  a  Cockney." 

"  I  don't  care,  you  're  the  same  :  you  're  not  one  of  us  ;  nor, 
if  you  spent  fifty  years  among  us,  would  you  understand  us." 

"Come  over  and  see  me  in  Berkshire,  Kearnev,  and  let 
me  see  if  you  can  read  our  people  much  better." 

"  From  all  I  hear,  there 's  not  much  to  read.  Your  chaw- 
bacon  is  n't  as  'cute  a  fellow  as  Pat." 

"  He 's  easier  to  live  with." 

"  Maybe  so ;  but  I  would  n't  care  for  a  life  with  such  people 
about  me.  I  like  human  nature,  and  human  feelings,  —  aye, 
human  passions,  if  you  must  call  them  so.  I  want  to  know 
—  I  can  make  some  people  love  me,  though  I  well  know  there 


MATHEW  KEARNEY'S  REFLECTIONS.      523 

must  be  others  will  hate  me.  You  're  all  for  tranquillity  all 
over  in  England,  — a  quiet  life  you  call  it.  I  like  to  live 
without  knowing  what 's  coming,  and  to  feel  all  the  time  that 
I  know  enough  of  the  game  to  be  able  to  play  it  as  well  as 
my  neighbors.     Do  you  follow  me  now,  Major?  " 

"I'm  not  quite  certain  I  do." 

"No,  — but  I'm  quite  certain  you  don't;  and,  indeed,  I 
wonder  at  myself  talkirig  to  you  arbout  these  things  at  all." 

"I'm  much  gratified  that  you  do  so.  In  fact,  Kearney, 
you  give  me  courage  to  speak  a  little  about  myself  and 
my  own  affairs;  and,  if  you  will  allow  me,  to  ask  your 
advice." 

This  was  an  unusually  long  speech  for  the  Major,  and  he 
actually  seemed  fatigued  when  he  concluded.  He  was,  how- 
ever, consoled  for  his  exertions  by  seeing  what  pleasure  his 
words  had  conferred  on  Kearney,  and  with  what  racy  self- 
satisfaction  that  gentleman  heard  himself  mentioned  as  a 
"  wise  opinion." 

"  I  believe  I  do  know  a  little  of  life.  Major,"  said  he, 
sententiously.  "  As  old  Giles  Dackson  used  to  say,  '  Get 
Mathew  Kearney  to  tell  you  what  he  thinks  of  it.'  You 
knew  Giles?" 

"No." 

' '  Well,  you  've  heard  of  him  ?  No  !  not  even  that.  There 's 
another  proof  of  what  I  was  saying,  —  we  're  two  people,  the 
English  and  the  Irish.  If  it  was  n't  so,  you  'd  be  no  stranger 
to  the  sayings  and  doings  of  one  of  the  'cutest  men  that  ever 
lived." 

"  We  have  witty  fellows,  too." 

"No,  you  haven't!  Do  you  call  your  House  of  Com- 
mons' jokes  wit?  Are  the  stories  j^ou  tell  at  your  hustings' 
speeches  wit?  Is  there  one  over  there  "  —  and  he  pointed  in 
the  direction  of  England —  "  that  ever  made  a  smart  repar- 
tee or  a  brilliant  answer  to  any  one  about  anything?  You 
now  and  then  tell  an  Irish  story,  and  you  forget  the  point ; 
or  you  quote  a  French  '  mot,'  and  leave  out  the  epigram. 
Don't  be  angry,  —  it 's  truth  I  'm  telling  you." 

"  I  'm  not  angry,  though  I  must  say  I  don't  think  you  are 
fair  to  us." 

"The  last  bit  of  brilliancy  you  had  in  the  House  was 


524  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

Brinsley  Sheridan,  and  there  wasn't  much  English  about 
/im." 

"I've  never  heard  that  the  famous  O'Connell  used  to  con- 
vulse the  House  with  his  drollery." 

' '  Why  should  he  ?  Did  n't  he  know  where  he  was  ?  Do 
you  imagine  that  O'Connell  was  going  to  do  like  poor  Lord 
Killeen,  who  shipped  a  cargo  of  coal-scuttles  to  Africa?  " 

"Will  you  explain  to  me  then,  how,  if  you  are  so  much 
shrewder  and  wittier  and  cleverer  than  us,  that  it  does  not 
make  you  richer,  more  prosperous,  and  more  contented?" 

"  I  could  do  that,  too,  but  I'm  losing  the  birds.  There  's 
a  cock  now.  Well  done !  I  see  you  can  shoot  a  bit.  Look 
here.  Major,  there's  a  deal  in  race, — in  the  blood  of  a 
people.  It's  very  hard  to  make  a  light-hearted,  joyous 
people  thrifty.  It's  your  sullen  fellow,  that  never  cuts  a 
joke,  nor  wants  any  one  to  laugh  at  it,  that 's  the  man  who 
saves.  If  you  're  a  wit,  you  want  an  audience,  and  the  best 
audience  is  round  a  dinner-table;  and  we  know  what  that 
costs.  Now,  Ireland  has  been  very  pleasant  for  the  last 
hundred  and  fifty  years  in  that  fashion,  and  you,  and  scores 
of  other  low-spirited,  depressed  fellows,  come  over  here  to 
pluck  up  and  rouse  yourselves,  and  you  go  home,  and  you 
wonder  why  the  people  who  amused  you  were  not  always  as 
jolly  as  you  saw  them.  I  've  known  this  country  now  nigh 
sixty  years,  and  I  never  knew  a  turn  of  prosperity  that 
did  n't  make  us  stupid  ;  and,  upon  my  conscience,  I  believe, 
if  we  ever  begin  to  grow  rich,  we  '11  not  be  a  bit  better  than 
yourselves." 

"That  would  be  very  dreadful,"  said  the  other,  in  mock 
horror. 

"So  it  would,  whether  you  mean  it  or  not.  There's  a 
hare  missed  this  time !  " 

"  I  was  thinking  of  something  I  wanted  to  ask  you.  The 
fact  is,  Kearney,  I  have  a  thing  on  my  mind  now." 

"Is  it  a  duel?  It's  many  a  day  since  I  was  out,  but  I 
used  to  know  every  step  of  the  way  as  well  as  most  men." 

"No;  it's  not  a  duel!" 

"  It 's  money,  then  !  Bother  it  for  money.  What  a  deal 
of  bad  blood  it  leads  to !  Tell  me  all  about  it,  and  I  '11  see 
if  I  can't  deal  with  it." 


MATHEW  KEARNEY'S  REFLECTIONS.  525 

"No,  it 's  not  money ;  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  money. 
I'm  not  hard  up.     I  was  never  less  so." 

"  Indeed  !  "  cried  Kearney,  staring  at  him. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  by  that?  " 

"I  was  curious  to  see  how  a  man  looks,  and  I'd  like  to 
know  how  he  feels,  that  did  n't  want  money.  I  can  no 
more  understand  it  than  if  a  man  told  me  he  did  n't  want 
air." 

"If  he  had  enough  to  breathe  freely,  could  he  need 
more  ?  " 

"  That  would  depend  on  the  size  of  his  lungs,  and  I  be- 
lieve mine  are  pretty  big.  But  come  now,  if  there 's  nobody 
you  want  to  shoot,  and  you  have  a  good  balance  at  the 
banker's,  what  can  ail  you,  except  it 's  a  girl  you  want  to 
marry,  and  she  won't  have  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  there  is  a  lady  in  the  case." 

"Aye,  aye!  she's  a  married  woman,"  cried  Kearney, 
closing  one  eye,  and  looking  intensely  cunning.  "Then  I 
may  tell  you  at  once,  Major,  I  'm  no  use  to  you  whatever. 
If  it  was  a  young  girl  that  liked  you  against  the  wish  of  her 
family,  or  that  you  were  in  love  with  though  she  was  below 
you  in  condition,  or  that  was  promised  to  another  man  but 
wanted  to  get  out  of  her  bargain,  I  'm  good  for  any  of  these, 
or  scores  more  of  the  same  kind ;  but  if  it 's  mischief  and 
misery  and  life-long  sorrow  you  have  in  your  head,  you 
must  look  out  for  another  adviser." 

"It's  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  the  other,  bluntly.  "It's 
marriage  I  was  thinking  of.  I  want  to  settle  down  and  have 
a  wife." 

"  Then  why  couldn't  you,  if  you  think  it  would  be  any 
comfort  to  you?" 

The  last  words  were  rather  uttered  than  spoken,  and 
sounded  like  a  sad  reflection  uttered  aloud. 

"I  am  not  a  rich  man,"  said  the  Major,  with  that  strain 
it  always  cost  him  to  speak  of  himself,  "  but  I  have  got 
enough  to  live  on.  A  goodish  old  house,  and  a  small  estate, 
underlet  as  it  is,  bringing  me  about  two  thousand  a  year, 
and  some  expectations,  as  they  call  them,  from  an  old 
grand-aunt." 

"  You  have  enough,  if  you  marry  a  prudent  girl,"  mut- 


526  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

tered  Kearney,  who  was  never  happier  than  when  advocating 
moderation  and  discretion. 

"  Enough,  at  least,  not  to  look  for  money  with  a  wife." 

"I'm  with  you  there,  heart  and  soul,"  cried  Kearney. 
"  Of  all  the  shabby  inventions  of  our  civilization,  I  don't 
know  one  as  mean  as  that  custom  of  giving  a  marriage- 
portion  with  a  girl.  Is  it  to  induce  a  man  to  take  her?  Is 
it  to  pa}^  for  her  board  and  lodging?  Is  it  because  marriage 
is  a  partnership,  and  she  must  bring  her  share  into  the 
'  concern ;  '  or  is  it  to  provide  for  the  day  when  they  are  to 
part  company,  and  each  go  his  own  road  ?  Take  it  how  you 
like,  it 's  bad  and  it 's  shabby.  If  you  're  rich  enough  to 
give  your  daughter  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  pounds,  wait 
for  some  little  family  festival,  —  her  birthday,  or  her  hus- 
band's birthday,  or  a  Christmas  gathering,  or  maybe  a 
christening,  —  and  put  the  notes  in  her  hand.  Oh,  Major 
dear,"  cried  he,  aloud,  "if  you  knew  how  much  of  life  you 
lose  with  lawyers,  and  what  a  deal  of  bad  blood  comes  into 
the  world  by  parchments,  you  'd  see  the  wisdom  of  trusting 
more  to  human  kindness  and  good  feeling,  and,  above  all, 
to  the  nonor  of  gentlemen,  —  things  that  nowadays  we 
always  hope  to  secure  by  Act  of  Parliament." 

"  I  go  with  a  great  deal  of  what  you  say." 

*'  Why  not  with  all  of  it?  What  do  we  gain  by  trying  to 
overreach  each  other?  What  advantage  in  a  system  where 
it 's  always  the  rogue  that  wins  ?  If  I  was  a  King  to- 
morrow, I  'd  rather  fine  a  fellow  for  quoting  Blackstone  than 
for  blasphemy,  and  I  'd  distribute  all  the  law  libraries  in  the 
kingdom  as  cheap  fuel  for  the  poor.  We  pray  for  peace 
and  quietness,  and  we  educate  a  special  class  of  people  to 
keep  us  always  wrangling.     Where  's  the  sense  of  that?  " 

While  Kearney  poured  out  these  words  in  a  flow  of  fervid 
conviction,  they  had  arrived  at  a  little  open  space  in  the 
wood,  from  which  various  alleys  led  off  in  different  directions. 
Along  one  of  these,  two  figures  were  slowly  moving  side  by 
side,  whom  Lockwood  quickly  recognized  as  Walpole  and 
Nina  Kostalergi.  Kearney  did  not  see  them,  for  his  atten- 
tion was  suddenly  called  off  by  a  shout  from  a  distance,  and 
his  son  Dick  rode  hastily  up  to  the  spot. 

"  I  have  been  in  search  of  you  all  through  the  plantation," 


MATHEW  KEARNEY'S  REFLECTIONS.      527 

cried  he.  "I  have  brought  back  Holmes  the  lawyer  from 
TuUamore,  who  wants  to  talk  to  you  about  this  affair  of 
O'Gormau's.     It's  going  to  be  a  bad  business,  I  fear." 

' '  Is  n't  that  more  of  what  I  was  saying  ?  "  said  the  old 
man,  turning  to  the  Major.     ''There's  law  for  you!" 

"  They  're  making  what  they  call  a  '  national '  event  of  it," 
continued  Dick.  "  The  '  Pike  '  has  opened  a  column  of  sub- 
scriptions to  defray  the  cost  of  proceedings,  and  they've 
engaged  Battersby  with  a  hundred  guinea  retainer  already." 

It  appeared  from  what  tidings  Dick  brought  back  from  the 
town,  that  the  nationalists  —  to  give  them  the  much  un- 
merited name  by  which  they  called  themselves  —  were 
determined  to  show  how  they  could  dictate  to  a  jury. 

"  There  's  law  for  you  !  "  cried  the  old  man  again. 

"You'll  have  to  take  to  vigilance  committees,  like  the 
Yankees,"  said  the  Major. 

' '  We  've  had  them  for  years ;  but  they  only  shoot  their 
political  opponents." 

"  They  say,  too,"  broke  in  the  young  man,  "that  Dono- 
gan  is  in  the  town,  and  that  it  is  he  who  has  organized  the 
whole  prosecution.  In  fact,  he  intends  to  make  Battersby's 
speech  for  the  plaintiff  a  great  declaration  of  the  wrongs  of 
Ireland ;  and  as  Battersby  hates  the  Chief  Baron,  who  will 
try  the  cause,  he  is  determined  to  insult  the  Bench,  even  at 
the  cost  of  a  commitment." 

"What  will  he  gain  by  that?"  asked  Lockwood. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  he  '11  gain,  —  he  '11  gain  the  election  of 
Mallow,"  said  Kearney.  "  Every  one  cannot  have  a  father 
that  was  hanged  in  '98 ;  but  any  one  can  go  to  jail  for 
blackguarding  a  Chief  Justice." 

For  a  moment  or  two  the  old  man  seemed  ashamed  at 
having  been  led  to  make  these  confessions  to  "  the  Saxon ;  " 
and  telling  Lockwood  where  he  would  be  likely  to  find  a 
brace  of  cocks,  he  took  his  son's  arm  and  returned  homeward. 


CHAPTER   LXXVI. 

VERY   CONFIDENTIAL    CONVERSATION. 

When  Lockwood  returned,  only  in  time  to  dress  for  dinner, 
Walpole,  whose  room  adjoined  his,  threw  open  the  door 
between  them  and  entered.  He  had  just  accomplished  a 
most  careful  "  tie,"  and  came  in  with  the  air  of  one  fairly 
self-satisfied  and  happy. 

*'  You  look  quite  triumphant  this  evening,"  said  the 
Major,  half  sulkily. 

"  So  1  am,  old  fellow ;  and  so  I  have  a  right  to  be.  It 's 
all  done  and  settled." 

"  Already?  " 

"Aye,  already.  I  asked  her  to  take  a  stroll  with  me  in 
the  garden ;  but  we  sauntered  off  into  the  plantation.  A 
woman  always  understands  the  exact  amount  of  meaning 
a  man  has  in  a  request  of  this  kind,  and  her  instinct 
reveals  to  her  at  once  whether  he  is  eager  to  tell  her  some 
bit  of  fatal  scandal  of  one  of  her  own  friends,  or  to  make 
her  a  declaration." 

A  sort  of  sulky  grunt  was  Lockwood's  acknowledgment  of 
this  piece  of  abstract  wisdom,  —  a  sort  of  knowledge  he  never 
listened  to  with  much  patience. 

"I  am  aware,"  said  Walpole,  flippantly,  "  the  female 
nature  was  an  omitted  part  in  your  education,  Lockwood,  and 
you  take  small  interest  in  those  nice  distinctive  traits  which, 
to  a  man  of  the  world,  are  exactly  what  the  stars  are  to  the 
mariner." 

"  Finding  out  what  a  woman  means  by  the  stars  does  seem 
very  poor  fun." 

"Perhaps  you  prefer  the  moon  for  your  observation," 
replied  Walpole ;  and  the  easy  impertinence  of  his  manner 
was  almost  too  much  for  the  other's  patience. 


VERY  CONFIDENTIAL   CONVERSATION.  529 

"  1  don't  care  for  your  speculatioDS,  —  I  want  to  hear  what 
passed  between  you  and  the  Greek  girl." 

"  The  Greek  gkl  will  in  a  very  few  days  be  Mrs.  Walpole, 
and  I  shall  crave  a  little  more  deference  for  the  mention  of 
her." 

"  I  forgot  her  name,  or  I  should  not  have  called  her  with 
such  freedom.     What  is  it?" 

''  Kostalergi.     Her  father  is  Kostalergi,  Prince  of  Delos." 

"  All  right ;  it  will  read  well  in  the  '  Post.'  " 

"  My  dear  friend,  there  is  that  amount  of  sarcasm  in  your 
conversation  this  evening  that,  to  a  plain  man  like  myself, 
never  ready  at  reply,  and  easily  subdued  by  ridicule,  is 
positively  overwhelming.  Has  any  disaster  befallen  you 
that  you  are  become  so  satirical  and  severe  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  me,  —  tell  me  about  yourself,"  was  the  blunt 
reply. 

''  I  have  not  the  slightest  objection.  When  we  had  walked 
a  little  way  together,  and  I  felt  that  we  were  beyond  the 
risk  of  interruption,  I  led  her  to  the  subject  of  my  sudden 
reappearance  here,  and  implied  that  she,  at  least,  could  not 
have  felt  much  surprise.  '  You  remember,'  said  I,  '  I 
promised  to  return?' 

*' '  There  is  something  so  conventional,'  said  she,  '  in  these 
pledges,  that  one  comes  to  read  them  like  the  ' '  yours  sin- 
cerely "  at  the  foot  of  a  letter.' 

*'  'I  ask  for  nothing  better/  said  I,  taking  her  up  on  her 
own  words,  'than  to  be  "  yours  sincerely."  It  is  to  ratify 
that  pledge  by  making  you  ''mine  sincerely"  that  I  am 
here.' 

"  '  Indeed ! '  said  she,  slowly,  and  looking  down. 

"  '  I  swear  it ! '  said  I,  kissing  her  hand,  which,  however, 
had  a  glove  on." 

"  Why  not  her  cheek? " 

"  That  is  not  done,  Major  mine,  at  such  times." 

"Well,  goon." 

"I  can't  recall  the  exact  words,  for  I  spoke  rapidly;  but 
I  told  her  I  was  named  Minister  at  a  foreign  Court,  that  my 
future  career  was  assured,  and  that  I  was  able  to  offer  her  a 
station,  not,  indeed,  equal  to  her  deserts,  but  that,  occupied 
by  her,  would  be  only  less  than  royal." 

34 


630  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  At  Guatemala !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  derisively. 

*'  Have  the  kindness  to  keep  your  geography  to  yourself," 
said  Walpole.  "I  merely  said  in  South  America,  and  she 
had  too  much  delicacy  to  ask  more." 

'*  But  she  said  yes?     She  consented?  " 

''  Yes,  sir,  she  said  she  would  venture  to  commit  her 
future  to  my  charge." 

''Didn't  she  ask  you  what  means  you  had, — what  was 
your  income  ?  " 

"Not  exactly  in  the  categorical  way  you  put  it,  but  she 
alluded  to  the  possible  style  we  should  live  in." 

*'  I  '11  swear  she  did.  That  girl  asked  you,  in  plain  words, 
how  many  hundreds  or  thousands  you  had  a-year?  " 

''  And  I  told  her.  I  said,  '  It  sounds  humbly,  dearest, 
to  tell  you  we  shall  not  have  fully  two  thousand  a-year; 
but  the  place  we  are  going  to  is  the  cheapest  in  the  uni- 
verse, and  we  shall  have  a  small  establishment  of  not  more 
than  forty  black  and  about  a  dozen  white  servants,  and 
at  first  only  keep  twenty  horses,  taking  our  carriages  on 
job.' " 

' '  What  about  pin-money  ?  " 

"  There  is  not  much  extravagance  in  toilette,  and  so  I 
said  she  must  manage  with  a  thousand  a-year." 

"  And  she  did  n't  laugh  in  your  face?  " 

"  No,  sir !  nor  was  there  any  strain  upon  her  good  breed- 
ing to  induce  her  to  laugh  in  my  face." 

"  At  all  events,  you  discussed  the  matter  in  a  fine  practical 
spirit.  Did  you  go  into  groceries  ?  I  hope  you  did  not  for- 
get groceries  ?  " 

''  My  dear  Lockwood,  let  me  warn  you  against  being  droll. 
You  ask  me  for  a  correct  narrative,  and  when  I  give  it,  you 
will  not  restrain  that  subtle  sarcasm  the  mastery  of  which 
makes  you  unassailable." 

"  When  is  it  to  be?  When  is  it  to  come  off?  Has  she  to 
write  to  His  Serene  Highness  the  Prince  of  What's-his- 
name?  " 

"No,  the  Prince  of  What's-his-name  need  not  be  con- 
sulted ;  Lord  Kilgobbin  will  stand  in  the  position  of  father 
to  her." 

Lockwood    muttered    something,    in    which    "  Give    her 


VERY   CONFIDENTIAL  CONVERSATION.  531 

away!"  were  the  only  words  audible.  "I  must  say," 
added  he,  aloud,   "  the  wooing  did  not  take  long." 

''  You  forget  that  there  was  an  actual  engagement  be- 
tween us  when  1  left  this  for  London.  My  circumstances 
at  that  time  did  not  permit  me  to  ask  her  at  once  to  be  my 
wife;  but  our  affections  were  pledged,  and  —  even  if  more 
tender  sentiments  did  not  determine  —  my  feeling,  as  a 
man  of  honor,  required  I  should  come  back  here  to  make 
her  this  offer." 

''AH  right;  I  suppose  it  will  do, — I  hope  it  will  do; 
and  after  all,  I  take  it,  you  are  likely  to  understand  each 
other  better  than  others  would." 

"  Such  is  our  impression  and  belief." 

''How  will  your  own  people  —  how  will  Danesbury  like 
it?" 

"  For  their  sakes  I  trust  they  will  like  it  very  much;  for 
mine,  it  is  less  than  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me." 

"  She,  however  —  she  will  expect  to  be  properly  received 
amongst  them?  " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Walpole,  speaking  for  the  first  time  in  a 
perfectly  natural  tone,  divested  of  all  pomposity,  —  "yes, 
she  stickles  for  that,  Lockwood.  It  was  the  one  point  she 
seemed  to  stand  out  for.  Of  course  I  told  her  she  would 
be  received  with  open  arms  by  my  relatives,  —  that  my 
family  would  be  overjoyed  to  receive  her  as  one  of  them. 
I  only  hinted  that  ray  Lord's  gout  might  prevent  him  from 
being  at  the  wedding.  1  'm  not  sure  Uncle  Danesbury  w^ould 
not  come  over.  '  And  the  charming  Lady  Maude,'  asked 
she,  '  would  she  honor  me  so  far  as  to  be  a  bridesmaid  ? '  " 

"She  didn't  say  that?" 

"  She  did.  She  actually  pushed  me  to  promise  I  should 
ask  her." 

"Which  you  never  would." 

"Of  that  1  will  not  affirm  I  am  quite  positive;  but  I 
certainly  intend  to  press  my  uncle  for  some  sort  of  recog- 
nition of  the  marriage,  —  a  civil  note ;  better  still,  if  it 
could  be  managed,  an  invitation  to  his  house  in  town." 

"You  are  a  bold  fellow  to  think  of  it." 

"  Not  so  bold  as  you  imagine.  Have  you  not  often 
remarked  that  when  a  man  of  good   connections  is  about 


532  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

to  exile  himself  by  accepting  a  far-away  post,  whether  it 
be  out  of  pure  compassion  or  a  feeling  that  it  need  never 
be  done  again,  and  that  they  are  about  to  see  the  last  of 
him  ;  but,  somehow,  —  whatever  the  reason,  —  his  friends 
are  marvellously  civil  and  polite  to  him,  just  as  some  be- 
nevolent but  eccentric  folk  send  a  partridge  to  the  con- 
demned felon  for  his  last  dinner." 

"They  do  that  in  France." 

' '  Here  it  would  be  a  rumpsteak ;  but  the  sentiment  is 
the  same.  At  all  events,  the  thing  is  as  I  told  you,  and 
I  do  not  despair  of  Danesbury." 

"For  the  letter  perhaps  not;  but  he'll  never  ask  you 
to  Bruton  Street,  nor,  if  he  did,  could  you  accept." 

"You  are  thinking  of  Lady  Maude." 

"I  am." 

"There  would  be  no  difficulty  in  that  quarter.  When  a 
Whig  becomes  Tory,  or  a  Tory  Whig,  the  gentlemen  of  the 
party  he  has  deserted  never  take  umbrage  in  the  same  way 
as  the  vulgar  dogs  below  the  gangway ;  so  it  is  in  the 
world.  The  people  who  must  meet,  must  dine  together, 
sit  side  by  side  at  flower-shows  and  garden-parties,  always 
manage  to  do  their  hatreds  decorously,  and  only  pay  off 
their  dislikes  by  instalments.  If  Lady  Maude  were  to 
receive  my  wife  at  all,  it  would  be  with  a  most  winning 
politeness.  All  her  malevolence  would  limit  itself  to  mak- 
ing the  supposed  underbred  woman  commit  a  gaucJierie,  to 
do  or  say  something  that  ought  not  to  have  been  done  or 
said ;  and  as  I  know  Nina  can  stand  the  test,  I  have  no 
fears  for  the  experiment." 

A  knock  at  the  door  apprised  them  that  the  dinner  was 
waiting,  neither  having  heard  the  bell  which  had  summoned 
them  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before.  "  And  I  wanted  to 
hear  all  about  your  progress,"  cried  Walpole,  as  they  de- 
scended the  staircase  together. 

"I  have  none  to  report,"  was  the  gruff  reply. 

"Why,  surely  you  have  not  passed  the  whole  day  in 
Kearney's  company  without  some  hint  of  what  you  came 
here  for?" 

But  at  the  same  moment  they  were  in  the  dining-room. 

"  We  are  a  man  party  to-day,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  cried 


VERY  CONFIDENTIAL  CONVERSATION.  533 

old  Kearney,  as  they  entered.  "  My  niece  and  my  daugh- 
ter are  keeping  Miss  O'Shea  company  upstairs.  She  is  not 
well  enough  to  come  down  to  dinner,  and  they  have  scru- 
ples about  leaving  her  in  solitude." 

"At  least,  we'll  have  a  cigar  after  dinner,"  was  Dick's 
ungallant  reflection  as  they  moved  away. 


CHAPTER   LXXVII. 

TWO    YOUNG    LADIES    ON    MATRIMONY. 

"I  HOPE  they  had  a  pleasanter  dinDer  downstairs  than  we 
have  had  here,"  said  Nina,  as,  after  wishing  Miss  O'Shea  a 
good-night,  the  young  girls  slowly  mounted  the  stairs. 

"Poor  old  godmother  was  too  sad  and  too  depressed  to  be 
cheerful  company ;  but  did  she  not  talk  well  and  sensibly 
on  the  condition  of  the  country?  Was  it  not  well  said,  when 
she  showed  the  danger  of  all  that  legislation  which,  assum- 
ing to  establish  right,  only  engenders  disunion  and  class 
jealousy  ?  " 

"1  never  followed  her;  I  was  thinking  of  something  else." 

"She  was  worth  listening  to,  then.  She  knows  the 
people  well,  and  she  sees  all  the  mischief  of  tampering  with 
natures  so  imbued  with  distrust.  The  Irishman  is  a  gam- 
bler, and  English  law-makers  are  always  exciting  him  to 
play." 

"It  seems  to  me  there  is  very  little  on  the  game." 

"There  is  everything, — home,  family,  subsistence,  life 
itself,  — all  that  a  man  can  care  for." 

"  Never  mind  these  tiresome  themes ;  come  into  my  room ; 
or  I  '11  go  to  yours,  for  I  'm  sure  you  've  a  better  fire;  be- 
sides, I  can  walk  away  if  you  offend  me,  —  I  mean  offend 
beyond  endurance;  for  you  are  sure  to  say  something 
cutting." 

"I  hope  you  wrong  me,  Nina." 

"Perhaps  I  do.  Indeed,  I  half  suspect  I  do;  but  the  fact 
is,  it  is  not  your  words  that  reproach  me,  it  is  your  whole 
life  of  usefulness  is  my  reproach;  and  the  least  syllable 
you  utter  comes  charged  with  all  the  responsibility  of  one 
who  has  a  duty  and  does  it,  to  a  mere  good-for-nothing. 
There,  is  not  that  humility  enough?" 


TWO  YOUNG  LADIES  ON  MATRIMONY.  535 

*'More  than  enough,  for  it  goes  to  flattery." 

"I  'm  not  a  bit  sure  all  the  time  that  I  'm  not  the  more 
lovable  creature  of  the  two.  If  you  like,  I  '11  put  it  to  the 
vote  at  breakfast." 

"Oh,  Nina!" 

"Very  shocking,  that 's  the  phrase  for  it,  — very  shock- 
ing! Oh,  dear,  what  a  nice  fire,  and  what  a  nice  little 
snug  room!  How  is  it,  will  you  tell  me,  that  though  my 
room  is  much  larger  and  better  furnished  in  every  way, 
your  room  is  always  brighter  and  neater,  and  more  like  a 
little  home?  They  fetch  you  drier  firevfood,  and  they 
bring  you  flowers,  wherever  they  get  them.  I  know  well 
what  devices  of  roguery  they  practise." 

"  Shall  I  give  you  tea?  " 

"Of  course  I'll  have  tea.  I  expect  to  be  treated  like  a 
favored  guest  in  all  things,  and  I  mean  to  take  this  arm- 
chair, and  the  nice  soft  cushion  for  my  feet ;  for  I  warn  you, 
Kate,  I  'm  here  for  two  hours.  I  've  an  immense  deal  to  tell 
you,  and  I  '11  not  go  till  it 's  told." 

"I  '11  not  turn  you  out." 

"I'll  take  care  of  that;  I  have  not  lived  in  Ireland  for 
nothing.  I  have  a  proper  sense  of  what  is  meant  by  pos- 
session, and  I  defy  what  your  great  minister  calls  a  heart- 
less eviction.  Even  your  tea  is  nicer;  it  is  more  fragrant 
than  any  one  else's.  I  begin  to  hate  you  out  of  sheer 
jealousy." 
"     "That  is  about  the  last  feeling  I  ought  to  inspire." 

"More  humility;  but  I  '11  drop  rudeness  and  tell  you  my 
story,  for  I  have  a  story  to  tell.  Are  you  listening?  Are 
you  attentive?  Well,  my  Mr.  Walpole,  as  you  called  him 
once,  is  about  to  become  so  in  real  earnest.  I  could  have 
made  a  long  narrative  of  it  and  held  you  in  weary  suspense, 
but  I  prefer  to  dash  at  once  into  the  thick  of  the  fray,  and 
tell  you  that  he  has  this  morning  made  me  a  formal  proposal, 
and  I  have  accepted  him.  Be  pleased  to  bear  in  mind  that 
this  is  no  case  of  a  misconception  or  a  mistake.  No  young 
gentleman  has  been  petting  and  kissing  my  hand  for 
another's;  no  tender  speeches  have  been  uttered  to  the  ears 
they  were  not  meant  for.  I  have  been  wooed  this  time  for 
myself,  and  on  my  own  part  I  have  said  yes." 


536  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

"You  told  me  you  had  accepted  him  ah^eady.  I  mean 
when  he  was  here  last." 

''Yes,  after  a  fashion.  Don't  you  know,  child,  that, 
though  lawyers  maintain  that  a  promise  to  do  a  certain 
thing,  to  make  a  lease  or  some  contract,  has  in  itself  a 
binding  significance,  that  in  Cupid's  Court  this  is  not  law? 
and  the  man  knew  perfectly  that  all  passed  between  us 
hitherto  had  no  serious  meaning,  and  bore  no  more  real 
relation  to  marriage  than  an  outpost  encounter  to  a  battle. 
For  all  that  has  taken  place  up  to  this,  we  might  never  fight 
—  I  mean  marry  —  after  all.  The  sages  say  that  a  girl 
should  never  believe  a  man  means  marriage  till  he  talks 
money  to  her.  Now,  Kate,  he  talked  money;  and  I  be- 
lieved him.'* 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  me  of  these  things  seriously  and 
without  banter." 

"So  I  do.  Heaven  knows  I  am  in  no  jesting  humor.  It 
is  in  no  outburst  of  high  spirits  or  gayet}^  a  girl  confesses 
she  is  going  to  marry  a  man  who  has  neither  wealth  nor 
station  to  offer,  and  whose  fine  connections  are  just  fine 
enough  to  be  ashamed  of  him." 

"Are  you  in  love  with  him?  " 

"If  you  mean,  do  I  imagine  that  this  man's  affection 
and  this  man's  companionship  are  more  to  me  than  all  the 
comforts  and  luxuries  of  life  with  another,  I  am  not  in  love- 
with  him;  but  if  you  ask  me,  am  I  satisfied  to  risk  my 
future  with  so  much  as  I  know  of  his  temper,  his  tastes,  his' 
breeding,  his  habits,  and  his  abilities,  I  incline  to  say  yes. 
Married  life,  Kate,  is  a  sort  of  dietary,  and  one  should  re- 
member that  what  he  has  to  eat  of  every  day  ought  not  to 
be  too  appetizing." 

"I  abhor  your  theory." 

"Of  course  you  do,  child;  and  you  fancy,  naturally 
enough,  that  you  would  like  ortolans  every  day  for  dinner; 
but  my  poor  cold  Greek  temperament  has  none  of  the 
romantic  warmth  of  your  Celtic  nature.  I  am  very  moderate 
in  my  hopes,  very  humble  in  all  my  ambitions.'* 

"It  is  not  thus  I  read  you." 

"Very  probably.  At  all  events,  I  have  consented  to  be 
Mr.  Walpole's  wife,  and  we  are  to  be  Minister  Pleuipoten- 


TWO  YOUNG  LADIES   ON  MATRIMONY.  537 

tiary  and  Special  Envoy  somewhere.  It  is  not  Bolivia, 
nor  the  Argentine  Republic,  but  some  other  fabulous  region, 
where  the  only  fact  is  yellow  fever." 

"And  you  really  like  him?  " 

*'I  hope  so,  for  evidently  it  must  be  on  love  we  shall  have 
to  live;  one  half  of  our  income  being  devoted  to  saddle- 
horses,  and  the  other  to  my  toilette." 

"How  absurd  you  are!  " 

"No,  not  I.  It  is  Mr.  Walpole  himself,  w^ho,  not  trust- 
ing much  to  my  skill  at  arithmetic,  sketched  out  this  sched- 
ule of  expenditure;  and  then  I  bethought  me  how  simple 
this  man  must  deem  me.  It  was  a  flattery  that  won  me  at 
once.  Oh,  Kate  dearest,  if  you  could  understand  the 
ecstasy  of  being  thought,  not  a  fool,  but  one  easily  duped, 
easily  deceived ! " 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"It  is  this,  then,  that  to  have  a  man's  whole  heart  — 
whether  it  be  worth  the  having  is  another  and  a  different 
question  —  you  must  impress  him  with  his  immense  supe- 
riority in  everything;  that  he  is  not  merely  physically 
stronger  than  you,  and  bolder  and  more  courageous,  but 
that  he  is  mentally  more  vigorous  and  more  able,  judges 
better,  decides  quicker,  resolves  more  fully  than  you;  and 
that,  struggle  how  you  will,  you  pass  your  life  in  eternally 
looking  up  to  this  wonderful  god,  who  vouchsafes  now  and 
then  to  caress  you,  and  even  say  tender  things  to  you." 

"Is  it,  Nina,  that  you  have  made  a  study  of  these  things, 
or  is  all  this  mere  imagination  ?  " 

"  Most  innocent  young  lady !  I  no  more  dreamed  of  these 
things  to  apply  to  such  men  as  your  country  furnishes  — 
good,  homely,  commonplace  creatures  —  than  I  should  have 
thought  of  asking  you  to  adopt  French  cookery  to  feed  them. 
I  spoke  of  such  men  as  one  meets  in  what  I  may  call  the 
real  world;  as  for  the  others,  if  they  feel  life  to  be  a  stage, 
they  are  always  going  about  in  slipshod  fashion,  as  if  at 
rehearsal.  Men  like  your  brother  and  young  O'Shea,  for 
instance,  tossed  here  and  there  by  accidents,  made  one  thing 
by  a  chance,  and  something  else  by  a  misfortune.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  the  events  of  life  are  very  vulgar  things; 
the  passions  and  emotions  they  evoke,  these  constitute  the 


538  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

high  stimulants  of  existence,  they  make  the  r/ros  jeu,  which 
it  is  so  exciting  to  play." 

"I  follow  you  with  some  difficulty;  but  I  am  rude  enough 
to  own  I  scarcely  regret  it." 

"I  know, — 1  know  all  about  that  sweet  innocence  that 
fancies  to  ignore  anything  is  to  obliterate  it;  but  it's  a 
fooPs  paradise,  after  all,  Kate.  We  are  in  the  world,  and 
we  must  accept  it  as  it  is  made  for  us." 

"1  '11  not  ask,  does  your  theory  make  you  better,  but 
does  it  make  you  happier?" 

'*If  being  duped  were  an  element  of  bliss,  I  should  say 
certainly  not  happier;  but  I  doubt  the  blissful  ignorance  of 
your  great  moralist.  I  incline  to  believe  that  the  better 
you  play  any  game  —  life  amongst  the  rest  —  the  higher  the 
pleasure  it  yields.  I  can  afford  to  marry,  without  believing 
my  husband  to  be  a  paragon,  —  could  you  do  as  much?  " 

"I  should  like  to  know  that  I  preferred  him  to  any  one 
else." 

"So  should  I,  and  I  would  only  desire  to  add  '  to  every 
>one  else  that  asked  me.'  Tell  the  truth,  Kate  dearest;  we 
jare  here  all  alone,  and  can  afford  sincerity.  How  many 
[of  us  girls  marry  the  man  we  should  like  to  marry;  and  if 
the  game  were  reversed,  and  it  were  to  be  we  who  should 
make  the  choice,  —  the  slave  pick  out  his  master,  —  how 
many,  think  you,  would  be  wedded  to  their  present 
mates?" 

*'So  long  as  we  can  refuse  him  we  do  not  like,  I  cannot 
think  our  case  a  hard  one.'* 

"Neither  should  I  if  I  could  stand  fast  at  three-and- 
twenty.  The  dread  of  that  change  of  heart  and  feeling  that 
will  come,  must  come,  ten  years  later,  drives  one  to  com- 
promise with  happiness,  and  take  a  part  of  what  you  once 
aspired  to  the  whole." 

"You  used  to  think  very  highly  of  Mr.  Walpole ;  admired, 
and  I  suspect  you  liked  him." 

"All  true;  my  opinion  is  the  same  still.  He  will  stand 
the  great  test  that  one  can  go  into  the  world  with  him  and 
not  be  ashamed  of  him.  I  know,  dearest,  even  without 
that  shake  of  the  head,  the  small  value  you  attach  to  this ; 
but  it  is  a  great  element  in  that  droll  contract  by  which 


TWO   YOUNG  LADIES  ON  MATRIMONY.  539 

one  person  agrees  to  pit  his  temper  against  another's,  and 
which  we  are  told  is  made  in  heaven,  with  angels  as  spon- 
sors. Mr.  Walpole  is  sufficiently  good-looking  to  be  pre-i 
possessing;  he  is  well  bred,  very  courteous,  converses 
extremely  well,  knows  his  exact  place  in  life,  and  takes  it 
quietly  but  firmly.  All  these  are  of  value  to  his  wife,  and 
it  is  not  easy  to  overrate  them." 

*^Is  that  enough?" 

"Enough  for  what?  If  you  mean  for  romantic  love,  for 
the  infatuation  that  defies  all  change  of  sentiment,  all 
growth  of  feeling,  that  revels  in  the  thought,  experience  will 
not  make  us  wiser,  nor  daily  associations  less  admiring,  it 
is  not  enough.  I,  however,  am  content  to  bid  for  a  much 
humbler  lot.  I  want  a  husband  who,  if  he  cannot  give  me 
a  brilliant  station,  will,  at  least,  secure  me  a  good  position 
in  life,  a  reasonable  share  of  vulgar  comforts,  some  luxuries, 
and  the  ordinary  routine  of  what  are  called  pleasures.  If, 
in  affording  me  these,  he  will  vouchsafe  to  add  good 
temper,  and  not  high  spirits,  —  which  are  detestable,  —  but 
fair  spirits,  I  think  1  can  promise  him,  not  that  I  shall 
make  him  happy,  but  that  be  will  make  himself  so,  and  it 
will  afford  me  much  gratification  to  see  it." 

"Is  this  real,  or  —  " 

"Or  what?     Say  what  was  on  your  lips." 

"Or  are  you  utterly  heartless?"  cried  Kate,  with  an 
effort  that  covered  her  face  with  blushes. 

"I  don't  think  I  am,"  said  she,  oddly  and  calmly;  "but 
all  I  have  seen  of  life  teaches  me  that  every  betrayal  of  a 
feeling  or  a  sentiment  is  like  what  gamblers  call  showing 
your  hand,  and  is  sure  to  be  taken  advantage  of  by  the  other 
players.  It's  an  ugly  illustration,  dear  Kate;  but  in  the 
same  round  game  we  call  life  there  is  so  much  cheating 
that  if  you  cannot  afford  to  be  pillaged,  you  must  be 
prudent." 

"I  am  glad  to  feel  that  I  can  believe  you  to  be  much 
better  than  you  make  yourself." 

"Do  so,  and  as  long  as  you  can." 

There  was  a  pause  of  several  moments  after  this,  each 
apparently  following  out  her  own  thoughts. 

"By  the  way,"  cried  Nina,    suddenly,   "did  I  tell  you 


540  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

that  Mary  wished  me  joy  this  morning?  She  had  overheard 
Mr.  O'Gorman's  declaration,  and  believed  he  had  asked 
me  to  be  his  wife." 

"How  absurd!  "  said  Kate;  and  there  was  anger  as  well 
as  shame  in  her  look  as  she  said  it. 

"Of  course  it  was  absurd.  She  evidently  never  sus- 
pected to  whom  she  was  speaking,  and  then  — "  She 
stopped;  for  a  quick  glance  at  Kate's  face  warned  her  of 
the  peril  she  was  grazing.  "I  told  the  girl  she  was  a  fool, 
and  forbade  her  to  speak  of  the  matter  to  any  one." 

"It  is  a  servants'-hall  story  already,"  said  Kate,  quietly. 

"Do  you  care  for  that?  " 

"Not  much;  three  days  will  see  the  end  of  it." 

"I  declare,  in  your  own  homely  way,  I  believe  you  are 
the  wiser  of. the  two  of  us." 

"My  common  sense  is  of  the  very  commonest,"  said 
Kate,  laughing;  "there  is  nothing  subtle  nor  even  neat 
about  it." 

"Let  us  see  that!  Give  me  a  counsel,  or,  rather,  say  if 
you  agree  with  me?  I  have  asked  Mr.  Walpole  to  show 
me  how  his  family  accept  my  entrance  amongst  them,  with 
what  grace  they  receive  me  as  a  relative.  One  of  his  cousins 
called  me  the  Greek  girl,  and  in  my  own  hearing.  It  is 
not,  then,  over-caution  on  my  part  to  inquire  how  they 
mean  to  regard  me.  Tell  me,  however,  Kate,  how  far  you 
concur  with  me  in  this.  I  should  like  much  to  hear  how 
your  good  sense  regards  the  question.  Should  you  have 
done  as  I  have?  " 

"Answer  me  first  one  question.  If  you  should  learn  that 
these  great  folks  would  not  welcome  you  amongst  them, 
would  you  still  consent  to  marry  Mr.  Walpole?" 

"I'm  not  sure,  I  am  not  quite  certain;  but  I  almost 
believe  I  should." 

"I  have,  then,  no  counsel  to  give  you,"  said  Kate, 
firmly.  "Two  people  who  see  the  same  object  differently 
cannot  discuss  its  proportions." 

"1  see  my  blunder,"  cried  Nina,  impetuously.  "I  put 
my  question  stupidly.  I  should  have  said,  *  If  a  girl  has 
won  a  man's  affections  and  given  him  her  own,  if  she  feels 
her  heart  has  no  other  home  than  in  his  keeping,  that  she 


TWO  YOUNG  LADIES   ON  MATRIMONY.  541 

lives  for  him  and  by  him,  —  should  she  be  deterred  from 
joining  her  fortunes  to  his  because  he  has  some  fine  con- 
nections who  would  like  to  see  him  marry  more  advan- 
tageously ? '  "  It  needed  not  the  saucy  curl  of  her  lip  as 
she  spoke  to  declare  how  every  word  was  uttered  in  sar- 
casm. "Why  will  you  not  answer  me?"  cried  she  at 
length;  and  her  eyes  shot  glances  of  fiery  impatience  as 
she  said  it. 

"Our  distinguished  friend  Mr.  Atlee  is  to  arrive  to- 
morrow, Dick  tells  me,"  said  Kate,  with  the  calm  tone  of 
one  who  would  not  permit  herself  to  be  ruffled. 

"Indeed!  If  your  remark  has  any  apropos  at  all,  it  must 
mean  that  in  marrying  such  a  man  as  he  is  one  might 
escape  all  the  difficulties  of  family  coldness ;  and  I  protest, 
as  I  think  of  it,  the  matter  has  its  advantages." 

A  faint  smile  was  all  Kate's  answer. 

"I  cannot  make  you  angry;  I  have  done  my  best,  and  it 
has  failed.     I  am  utterly  discomfited,  and  I  '11  go  to  bed." 

"Good-night,"  said  Kate,  as  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"I  wonder  is  it  nice  to  have  this  angelic  temperament,  — 
to  be  always  right  in  one's  judgments,  and  never  carried 
away  by  passion?  I  half  suspect  perfection  does  not  mean 
perfect  happiness." 

"You  shall  tell  me  when  you  are  married,"  said  Kate, 
with  a  laugh;  and  Nina  darted  a  flashing  glance  towards 
her,  and  swept  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER   LXXVIII. 

A    MISERABLE    MORNING. 

It  was  not  without  considerable  heart-sinking  and  misgiv- 
ing that  old  Kearney  heard  it  was  Miss  Betty  O'Shea's 
desire  to  have  some  conversation  with  him  after  breakfast. 
He  was,  indeed,  reassured,  to  a  certain  extent,  by  his 
daughter  telling  him  that  the  old  lady  was  excessively 
weak,  and  that  her  cough  was  almost  incessant,  and  that 
she  spoke  with  extreme  difficulty.  All  the  comfort  that 
these  assurances  gave  him  was  dashed  by  a  settled  convic- 
tion of  Miss  Betty's  subtlety.  "She  's  like  one  of  the  wild 
foxes  they  have  in  Crim  Tartary;  and  when  you  think  they 
are  dead,  they  're  up  and  at  you  before  you  can  look  round." 
He  affirmed  no  more  than  the  truth  when  he  said  that  "he  'd 
rather  walk  barefoot  to  Kilbeggan  than  go  up  that  stair  to 
see  her." 

There  was  a  strange  conflict  in  his  mind  all  this  time 
between  these  ignoble  fears  and  the  efforts  he  was  making 
to  seem  considerate  and  gentle  by  Kate's  assurance  that  a 
cruel  word,  or  even  a  harsh  tone,  would  be  sure  to  kill  her. 
"You  '11  have  to  be  very  careful,  papa  dearest,"  she  said. 
"Her  nerves  are  completely  shattered,  and  every  respiration 
seems  as  if  it  would  be  the  last." 

Mistrust  was,  however,  so  strong  in  him  that  he  would 
have  employed  any  subterfuge  to  avoid  the  interview ;  but 
the  Rev.  Luke  Delany,  who  had  arrived  to  give  her  "the 
consolations,"  as  he  briefly  phrased  it,  insisted  on  Kear- 
ney's attending  to  receive  the  old  lady's  forgiveness  before 
she  died. 

"Upon  my  conscience,"  muttered  Kearney,  "I  was 
always  under  the  belief  it  was  I  was  injured;  but,  as  the 


A  MISERABLE  MORNING.  543 

priest  says,  '  it 's  only  on  one's  death-bed  he  sees  things 
clearly. " 

As  Kearney  groped  his  way  through  the  darkened  room, 
shocked  at  his  own  creaking  shoes,  and  painfully  convinced 
that  he  was  somehow  deficient  in  delicacy,  a  low  faint  cough 
guided  him  to  the  sofa  where  Miss  O'Shea  lay.  "Is  that 
Mathew  Kearney?"  said  she,  feebly.  "I  think  I  know 
his  foot." 

"Yes,  indeed,  bad  luck  to  them  for  shoes.  Wherever 
Davy  Morris  gets  the  leather  I  don't  know;  but  it 's  as  loud 
as  a  barrel-organ." 

"  Maybe  they  're  cheap,  Mathew.  One  puts  up  with  many 
a  thing  for  a  little  cheapness." 

"That's  the  first  shot!"  muttered  Kearney  to  himself, 
while  he  gave  a  little  cough  to  avoid  reply. 

"Father  Luke  has  been  telling  me,  Mathew,  that  before 
I  go  this  long  journey  I  ought  to  take  care  to  settle  any 
little  matter  here  that 's  on  my  mind.  '  If  there  's  anybody 
you  bear  an  ill  will  to,'  says  he,  '  if  there  's  any  one  has 
wronged  you, '  says  he,  '  told  lies  of  you,  or  done  you  any 
bodily  harm,  send  for  him, '  says  he,  '  and  let  him  hear  your 
forgiveness  out  of  your  own  mouth.  I'll  take  care  after- 
wards,' says  Father  Luke,  '  that  he  '11  have  to  settle  the 
account  with  me  ;  but  you  must  n't  mind  that.  You  must 
be  able  to  tell  St.  Joseph  that  you  come  with  a  clean  breast 
and  a  good  conscience;  and  that's"  —  here  she  sighed 
heavily  several  times  —  "and  that's  the  reason  I  sent  for 
you,  Mathew  Kearney !  " 

Poor  Kearney  sighed  heavily  over  that  category  of  mis- 
doers  with  whom  he  found  himself  classed,  but  he  said 
nothing. 

"I  don't  want  to  say  anything  harsh  to  you,  Mathew, 
nor  have  I  strength  to  listen,  if  you  'd  try  to  defend  your- 
self; time  is  short  with  me  now;  but  this  I  must  say,  if 
I  'm  here  now,  sick  and  sore,  and  if  the  poor  boy  in  the 
other  room  is  lying  down  with  his  fractured  head,  it  is  you, 
and  you  alone,  have  the  blame." 

"  May  the  blessed  Virgin  give  me  patience !  "  muttered 
he,  as  he  wrung  his  hands  despairingly. 

"I  hope  she  will;  and  give  you  more,  Mathew  Kearney, 


544  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

I  hope  she  '11  give  you  a  hearty  repentance.  I  hope  she  '11 
teach  you  that  the  few  days  that  remain  to  you  in  this  life 
are  short  enough  for  contrition ;  aye,  —  contrition  and 
castigation." 

"Ain't  I  getting  it  now?"  muttered  he;  but  low  as  he 
spoke  the  words,  her  quick  hearing  had  caught  them. 

"I  hope  you  are;  it  is  the  last  bit  of  friendship  I  can  do 
you.  You  have  a  hard,  worldly,  selfish  nature,  Mathew; 
you  had  it  as  a  boy,  and  it  grew  worse  as  you  grew  older. 
What  many  believed  high  spirits  in  you  was  nothing  else 
than  the  reckless  devilment  of  a  man  that  only  thought  of 
himself.  You  could  afford  to  be  —  at  least,  to  look  —  light- 
hearted,  for  you  cared  for  nobody.  You  squandered  your 
little  property,  and  you  'd  have  made  away  with  the  few 
acres  that  belonged  to  your  ancestors  if  the  law  would  have 
let  you.  As  for  the  way  you  brought  up  your  children, 
that  lazy  boy  below  stairs,  that  never  did  a  hand's  turn,  is 
proof  enough;  and  poor  Kitty,  just  because  she  wasn't  like 
the  rest  of  you,  how  she  's  treated !  " 

"How  is  that,  — what  is  my  cruelty  there?"  cried  he. 

"Don't  try  to  make  yourself  out  worse  than  you  are," 
said  she,  sternly,  "and  pretend  that  you  don't  know  the 
wrong  you  done  her." 

"May  I  never  —  if  I  understand  what  you  mean." 

"  Maybe  you  thought  it  was  no  business  of  yours  to  pro- 
vide for  your  own  child.  Maybe  you  had  a  notion  that  it 
was  enough  that  she  had  her  food  and  a  roof  over  her  while 
you  were  here,  and  that  somehow  —  anyhow  —  she  'd  get  on, 
as  they  call  it,  when  you  were  in  the  other  place.  Mathew 
Kearney,  I  '11  say  nothing  so  cruel  to  you  as  your  own  con- 
science is  saying  this  minute;  or,  maybe,  with  that  light 
heart  that  makes  your  friends  so  fond  of  you,  you  never 
bothered  yourself  about  her  at  all;  and  that's  the  way  it 
come  about." 

"  What  came  about?     I  want  to  know  that" 

"First  and  foremost,  I  don't  think  the  law  will  let  you. 
I  don't  believe  you  can  charge  your  estate  against  the 
entail.  I  have  a  note  there  to  ask  McKeown's  opinion; 
and  if  I'm  right,  I  '11  set  apart  a  sum  in  my  will  to  contest 
it    in   the   Queen's   Bench.     I  tell  you  this   to  your  face, 


A  MISERABLE  MORNING  545 

Mathew  Kearney,  and  I  'm  going  where  I  can  tell  it  to 
somebody  better  than  a  hard-hearted,  cruel  old  man." 

"What  is  it  that  I  want  to  do,  and  that  the  law  won't  let 
me  ?  "  asked  he,  in  the  most  imploring  accents. 

"At  least  twelve  honest  men  will  decide  it." 

"Decide  what!  in  the  name  of  the  saints?"  cried  he. 

"Don't  be  profane ;  don't  parade  your  unbelieving  notions 
to  a  poor  old  woman  on  her  death-bed.  You  may  want  to 
leave  your  daughter  a  beggar,  and  your  son  little  better, 
but  you  have  no  right  to  disturb  my  last  moments  with  your 
terrible  blasphemies." 

"I'm  fairly  bothered  now,"  cried  he,  as  his  two  arms 
dropped  powerlessly  to  his  sides.  "So  help  me,  if  I  know 
whether  I  'm  awake  or  in  a  dream." 

"It's  an  excuse  won't  serve  you  where  you'll  be  soon 
going,  and  I  warn  you,  don't  trust  it." 

"Have  a  little  pity  on  me.  Miss  Betty,  darling,"  said  he, 
in  his  most  coaxing  tone;  "and  tell  me  what  it  is  I  have 
done?" 

''You  mean  what  you  are  trying  to  do;  but  what,  please 
the  Virgin,  we  '11  not  let  you!  " 

"Whsit  is  that?" 

"And  what,  weak  and  ill,  and  dying  as  I  am,  I  've 
strength  enough  left  in  me  to  prevent,  Mathew  Kearney; 
and  if  you  '11  give  me  that  Bible  there,  I  '11  kiss  it,  and  take 
my  oath  that,  if  he  marries  her,  he  '11  never  put  foot  in  a 
house  of  mine,  nor  inherit  an  acre  that  belongs  to  me ;  and 
all  that  I  '11  leave  in  my  will  shall  be  my  —  well,  I  won't  say 
what;  only  it's  something  he'll  not  have  to  pay  a  legacy 
duty  on.  Do  you  understand  me  now,  or  ain't  I  plain 
enough  yet?  " 

"No,  not  yet.     You  '11  have  to  make  it  clearer  still." 

"Faith,  I  must  say  you  did  not  pick  up  much  'cuteness 
from  your  adopted  daughter." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"The  Greek  hussy  that  you  want  to  marry  my  nephew, 

and  give  a  dowry  to  out  of  the  estate  that  belongs  to  your 

son.     I  know  it  all,  Mathew.     I  was  n't  two  hours  in  the 

,  house  before  my  old  woman  brought   me   the   story   from 

Mary.     Aye,  stare  if  you  like,  but  they  all  know  it  below 

35 


546  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

stairs;  and  a  nice  way  you  are  discussed  in  your  own 
house!  Getting  a  promise  out  of  a  poor  boy  in  a  brain 
fever,  making  him  give  a  pledge  in  his  ravings!  Won't  it 
tell  well  in  a  court  of  justice,  of  a  magistrate,  a  county 
gentleman,  a  Kearney  of  Kilgobbin?  Oh,  Mathew,  Mathew, 
I  'm  ashamed  of  you!  " 

"  Upon  my  oath,  you  're  making  me  ashamed  of  myself 
that  I  sit  here  and  listen  to  you,"  cried  he,  carried  beyond 
all  endurance.  "Abusing,  aye,  blackguarding  me  this 
last  hour  about  a  lying  story  that  came  from  the  kitchen. 
It 's  you  that  ought  to  be  ashamed,  old  lady.  Not,  indeed, 
for  believing  ill  of  an  old  friend,  —  for  that 's  nature  in  you, 
—  but  for  not  having  common  sense,  just  common  sense 
to  guide  you,  and  a  little  common  decency  to  warn  you. 
Look  now,  there  is  not  a  word,  there  is  not  a  syllable  of 
truth  in  the  whole  story.  Nobody  ever  thought  of  your 
nephew  asking  my  niece  to  marry  him;  and  if  he  did, 
she  wouldn't  have  him.  She  looks  higher,  and  she  has 
a  right  to  look  higher,  than  to  be  the  wife  of  an  Irish 
squireen." 

"Go  on,  Mathew,  go  on.  You  waited  for  me  to  be  as  I 
am  now,  before  you  had  courage  for  words  like  these." 

"Well,  I  ask  your  pardon,  and  ask  it  in  all  humiliation 
and  sorrow.  My  temper  —  bad  luck  to  it !  —  gets  the  better, 
or  maybe  it 's  the  worse,  of  me  at  times,  and  I  say  fifty 
things  that  I  know  I  don't  feel;  just  the  way  sailors  load  a 
gun  with  anything  in  the  heat  of  an  action." 

"I  'm  not  in  a  condition  to  talk  of  sea-fights,  Mr.  Kearney, 
though  I'm  obliged  to  you  all  the  same  for  trying  to  amuse 
me.  You  '11  not  think  me  rude  if  I  ask  you  to  send  Kate  to 
me?  And  please  to  tell  Father  Luke  that  I  '11  not  see  him 
this  morning.  My  nerves  have  been  sorely  tried.  One 
word  before  you  go,  Mathew  Kearney;  and  have  compas- 
sion enough  not  to  answer  me.  You  may  be  a  just  man 
and  an  honest  man ;  you  may  be  fair  in  your  dealings,  and 
all  that  your  tenants  say  of  you  may  be  lies  and  calumnies ; 
but  to  insult  a  poor  old  woman  on  her  death-bed  is  cruel 
and  unfeeling;  and  I'll  tell  you  more,  Mathew,  it's 
cowardly  and  it's  —  " 

Kearney  did  not  wait  to  hear  what  more  it  might  be,  for 


A  MISERABLE  MORNING.  547 

he  was  already  at  the  door,  and  rushed  out  as  if  he  was 
escaping  from  a  fire. 

"I'm  glad  he's  better  than  they  made  him  out,"  said 
Miss  Betty  to  herself,  in  atone  of  calm  soliloquy;  "and 
he  '11  not  be  worse  for  some  of  the  home  truths  I  told  him." 
And  with  this  she  drew  on  her  silk  mittens,  and  arranged 
her  cap  composedly,  while  she  waited  for  Kate's  arrival. 

As  for  poor  Kearney,  other  troubles  were  awaiting  him 
in  his  study,  where  he  found  his  son  and  Mr.  Holmes,  the 
lawyer,  sitting  before  a  table  covered  with  papers.  "I  have 
no  head  for  business  now,"  cried  Kearney.  "I  don't  feel 
over  well  to-day;  and  if  you  want  to  talk  to  me,  you  '11  have 
to  put  it  off  till  to-morrow." 

"Mr.  Holmes  must  leave  for  town,  my  Lord,"  interposed 
Dick,  in  his  most  insinuating  tone,  "and  he  only  wants  a 
few  minutes  with  you  before  he  goes." 

"And  it's  just  what  he  won't  get.  I  would  not  see  the 
Lord  Lieutenant  if  he  was  here  now." 

"The  trial  is  fixed  for  Tuesday,  the  19th,  my  Lord,'* 
cried  Holmes,  "and  the  national  press  has  taken  it  up  in 
such  a  way  that  we  have  no  chance  whatever.  The  verdict 
will  be  '  Guilty,'  without  leaving  the  box;  and  the  whole 
voice  of  public  opinion  will  demand  the  very  heaviest  sen- 
tence the  law  can  pronounce." 

"Think  of  that  poor  fellow,  O'Shea,  just  rising  from  a 
sick-bed,"  said  Dick,  as  his  voice  shook  with  agitation. 

"They  can't  hang  him." 

"No,  for  the  scoundrel  Gill  is  alive,  and  will  be  the 
chief  witness  on  the  trial;  but  they  may  give  him  two 
years  with  prison  labor,  and  if  they  do,  it  will  kill  him." 

"I  don't  know  that.  I  've  seen  more  than  one  fellow 
come  out  fresh  and  hearty  after  a  spell.  In  fact,  the  plain 
diet  and  the  regular  work  and  the  steady  habits  are  won- 
derful things  for  a  young  man  that  has  been  knocking  about 
in  a  town  life." 

"Oh,  father,  don't  speak  that  way.  I  know  Gorman 
well,  and  I  can  swear  he'd  not  survive  it." 

Kearney  shook  his  head  doubtingly,  and  muttered, 
"There  's  a  great  deal  said  about  wounded  pride  and  injured 
feelings;  but  the  truth  is,  these  things  are  like  a  bad  colic, 


548  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

mighty  hard  to  bear,  if  you  like,  but  nobody  ever  dies 
of  it." 

"From  all  I  hear  about  young  Mr.  O'Shea,"  said  Holmes, 
"I  am  led  to  believe  he  will  scarcely  live  through  an 
imprisonment." 

"To  be  sure!  Why  not?  At  three  or  four-and-twenty 
we  're  all  of  us  high-spirited  and  sensitive  and  noble- 
hearted,  and  we  die  on  the  spot  if  there  's  a  word  against 
our  honor.  It  is  only  after  we  cross  the  line  in  life,  wher- 
ever that  be,  that  we  become  thick-skinned  and  hardened, 
and  mind  nothing  that  does  not  touch  our  account  at  the 
bank.  Sure  I  know  the  theory  well !  Ay,  and  the  only  bit 
of  truth  in  it  all  is  that  we  cry  out  louder  when  we  're 
young,  for  we  are  not  so  well  used  to  bad  treatment." 

*'  Right  or  wrong,  no  man  likes  to  have  the  whole  press 
of  a  nation  assailing  him,  and  all  the  sympathies  of  a  people 
against  him,"  said  Holmes. 

"  And  what  can  you  and  your  brothers  in  wigs  do  against 
that?  Will  all  your  little  beguiling  ways  and  insinuating 
tricks  turn  the  '  Pike '  and  the  '  Irish  Cry  '  from  what  sells 
their  papers?  Here  it  is  now,  Mr.  Holmes,  and  I  can't  put 
it  shorter.  Every  man  that  lives  in  Ireland  knows  in  his 
heart  he  must  live  in  hot  water ;  but  somehow,  though  he 
may  not  like  it,  he  gets  used  to  it,  and  he  finds  it  does  him 
no  harm  in  the  end.  There  was  an  uncle  of  my  own  was  in 
a  passion  for  forty  years,  and  he  died  at  eighty-six." 

"  I  wish  I  could  only  secure  your  attention,  my  Lord,  for 
ten  minutes." 

"  And  what  would  you  do.  Counsellor,  if  you  had  it?  " 

''You  see,  my  Lord,  there  are  some  very  grave  questions 
here.  First  of  all,  you  and  your  brother  magistrates  had  no 
right  to  accept  bail.  The  injury  was  too  grave  :  Gill's  life, 
as  the  doctor's  certificate  will  prove,  was  in  danger.  It  was 
for  a  judge  in  Chambers  to  decide  whether  bail  could  be 
taken.  They  will  move,  therefore,  in  the  Queen's  Bench, 
for  a  mandamus  —  " 

"  May  I  never,  if  you  won't  drive  me  mad  !  "  cried  Kearney, 
passionately  ;  "  and  I  'd  rather  be  picking  oakum  this  minute 
than  listening  to  all  the  possible  misfortunes  briefs  and  law- 
yers could  bring  on  me." 


A  MISERABLE  MORNING.  549 

''  Just  listen  to  Holmes,  father,"  whispered  Dick.  ♦'  He 
thinks  that  Gill  might  be  got  over,  —  that  if  done  'oy  you 
with  three  or  four  hundred  pounds,  he'd  either  make  his 
evidence  so  light,  or  he  'd  contradict  himself,  or,  better  than 
all,  he  'd  not  make  an  appearance  at  the  trial  —  " 

"Compounding  a  felony!  Catch  me  at  it!"  cried  the 
old  man,  with  a  yell. 

"  Well,  Joe  Atlee  will  be  here  to-night,"  continued  Dick. 
"  He 's  a  clever  fellow  at  all  rogueries.  Will  you  let  him  see 
if  it  can't  be  arranged?  " 

"  I  don't  care  who  does  it,  so  it  is  n't  Mathew  Kearney," 
said  he,  angrily,  for  his  patience  could  endure  no  more.  "  If 
you  won't  leave  me  alone  now,  I  '11  go  out  and  sit  on  the 
bog,  and  upon  my  conscience  I  won't  say  that  I  '11  not 
throw  myself  into  a  bog-hole  !  " 

There  was  a  tone  of  such  perfect  sincerity  in  his  speech 
that,  without  another  word,  Dick  took  the  lawyer's  arm,  and 
led  him  from  the  room. 

A  third  voice  was  heard  outside  as  they  issued  forth,  and 
Kearney  could  just  make  out  that  it  was  Major  Lockwood, 
who  was  asking  Dick  if  he  might  have  a  few  minutes'  con- 
versation with  his  father. 

"  I  don't  suspect  you'll  find  my  father  much  disposed  for 
conversation  just  now.  I  think  if  you  would  not  mind 
making  your  visit  to  him  at  another  time  —  " 

"  Just  so !  "  broke  in  the  old  man,  "  if  you  're  not  coming 
with  a  strait- waistcoat,  or  a  coil  of  rope  to  hold  me  down, 
I  'd  say  it's  better  to  leave  me  to  myself." 

Whether  it  was  that  the  Major  was  undeterred  by  these 
forbidding  evidences,  or  that  what  he  deemed  the  importance 
of  his  communication  warranted  some  risk,  certain  it  is  he 
lingered  at  the  door,  and  stood  there  where  Dick  and  the 
lawyer  had  gone  and  left  him. 

A  faint  tap  at  the  door  at  last  apprised  Kearney  that  some 
one  was  without,  and  he  hastily,  half  angrily,  cried,  "  Come 
in !  "  Old  Kearney  almost  started  with  surprise  as  the 
Major  walked  in. 

"I'm  not  going  to  make  any  apology  for  intruding  on 
you,"  cried  he.  "  What  I  want  to  say  shall  be  said  in  three 
words,  and  I  cannot  endure  the  suspense  of  not  having  them 


650  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

said    and    answered.     I  've  had  a  whole  night    of   feverish 

anxiety,  and  a  worse   morning,  thinking  and    turning  over 

the  thing  in  my  mind,  and  settled  it  must  be  at  once,  one 

way  or  other,  for  my  head  will  not  stand  it." 

*'  My  own  is  tried  pretty  hard,  and  I  can  feel  for  you," 

said  Kearney,  with  a  grim  humor. 
■      "I  've  come  to  ask  if  you  '11  give  me  your  daughter  ?  "  and 

his  face  became  blood-red  with  the  effort  the  words  had 

cost  him. 
!      "  Give  you  my  daughter?  "  cried  Kearney. 

''I  want  to  make  her  my  wife,  and  as  I  know  little  about 
,  courtship,  and  have  nobody  here  that  could  settle  this  affair 

I  for  me,  —  for  Walpole  is  thinking  of  his  own  concerns,  — 

I I  've  thought  the  best  way,  as  it  was  the  shortest,  was  to 
^  come  at  once  to  yourself :  I  have  got  a  few  documents  here 

that  will  show  you  I  have  enough  to  live  on,  and  to  make 
i  a  tidy  settlement,  and  do  all  that  ought  to  be  done." 
?  "  I  'm  sure  you  are  an  excellent  fellow,  and  I  like  you 
I  myself;  but  you  see.  Major,  a  man  doesn't  dispose  of  his 
i  daughter  like  his  horse,  and  I  'd  like  to  hear  what  she  would 
'  say  to  the  bargain." 

*'  I  suppose  you  could  ask  her?  " 

"Well,  indeed,  that's  true,  I  could  ask  her;  but  on  the 

whole.   Major,  don't  you  think   the   question  would  come 

better  from  yourself?" 
''  That  means  courtship?  " 
*'  Yes,  I  admit  it  is*  liable  to  that  objection,  but  somehow 

it's  the  usual  course." 
I  "No,  no,"  said  the  other,  slowly,  "I  could  not  manage 
\  that.  I  'm  sick  of  bachelor  life,  and  I  'm  ready  to  send  in 
I  my  papers  and  have  done  with  it,  but  I  don't  know  how  to 
i  go  about  the  other.  Not  to  say,  Kearney,"  added  he,  more 
j  boldly,  "  that  I  think  there  is  something  Confoundedly  mean 
I  in  that  daily  pursuit  of  a  woman,  till  by  dint  of  importunity, 
\  and  one  thing  or  another,  you  get  her  to  like  you !  What 
:  can  she  know  of  her  own  mind  after  three  or  four  months  of 
';  what  these  snobs  call  attentions  ?     How  is  she  to  say  how 

much  is  mere  habit,  how  much  is  gratified  vanity  of  having  a 

fellow  dangling  after  her,  how  much  the  necessity  of  showing 

the  world  she  is  not  compromised  by  the  cad's  solicitations  ? 


A  MISERABLE  MORNING.  551 

Take  my  word  for  it,  Kearney,  my  way  is  the  best.  Be  able^ 
to  go  up  like  a  man  and  tell  the  girl,  '  It 's  all  arranged. 
I  've  shown  the  old  cove  that  I  can  take  care  of  you,  he  has 
seen  that  I  've  no  debts  or  mortgages  ;  I  'm  ready  to  behave 
handsomely,  what  do  you  say  yourself?'" 

''  She  might  say,  '  I  know  nothing  about  you.  I  may 
possibly  not  see  much  to  dislike,  but  how  do  I  know  I  should 
like  you?'" 

*'And  I'd  say,  'I'm  one  of  those  fellows  that  are  the 
same  all  through,  to-day  as  I  was  yesterday,  and  to-morrow 
the  same.  When  I  'm  in  a  bad  temper,  I  go  out  on  the  moors 
and  walk  it  off,  and  I  'm  not  hard  to  live  with.' " 

*'  There's  many  a  bad  fellow  a  woman  might  like  better." 

''  All  the  luckier  for  me,  then,  that  I  don't  get  her." 

''I  might  say,  too,"  said  Kearney,  with  a  smile,  "how 
much  do  you  know  of  my  daughter,  —  of  her  temper,  her 
tastes,  her  habits,  and  her  likings?  What  assurance  have 
you  that  you  would  suit  each  other,  and  that  you  are  not  as 
wide  apart  in  character  as  in  country?" 

"I'll  answer  for  that.  She's  always  good-tempered, 
cheerful,  and  light-hearted.  She 's  always  nicely  dressed  and 
polite  to  every  one.  She  manages  this  old  house  and  these 
stupid  bog-trotters  till  one  fancies  it  a  fine  establishment 
and  a  first-rate  household,  She  rides  like  a  lion,  and  I'd 
rather  hear  her  laugh  than  I'd  listen  to  Patti." 

"  I  '11  call  all  that  mighty  like  being  in  love." 

"  Do  if  you  like,  — but  answer  me  my  question." 

"That  is  more  than  I'm  able;  but  I'll  consult  my 
daughter.  I  '11  tell  her  pretty  much  in  your  own  words  all 
you  have  said  to  me,  and  she  shall  herself  give  the  answer." 

"  All  right,  and  how  soon  ?  " 

"  Well,  in  the  course  of  the  day.  Should  she  say  that  she 
does  not  understand  being  wooed  in  this  manner,  that  she 
would  like  more  time  to  learn  something  more  about  your- 
self, that,  in  fact,  there  is  something  too  peremptory  in  this 
mode  of  proceeding,  I  would  not  say  she  was  wrong." 

"  But  if  she  says  yes  frankly,  you  '11  let  me  know  at 
once? " 

"  I  will  —  on  the  spot." 


CHAPTER  LXXIX. 

PLEASANT   CONGRATULATIONS. 

•fHE  news  of  Nina's  engagement  to  Walpole  soon  spread 
through  the  castle  at  Kilgobbin,  and  gave  great  satisfaction ; 
even  the  humbler  members  of  the  household  were  delighted 
to  think  there  would  be  a  wedding  and  all  its  appropriate 
festivity. 

When  the  tidings  at  length  arrived  at  Miss  O'Shea's  room, 
so  reviving  were  the  effects  upon  her  spirits  that  the  old 
lady  insisted  she  should  be  dressed  and  carried  down  to  the 
drawing-room,  that  the  bridegroom  might  be  presented  to  her 
in  all  form. 

Though  Nina  herself  chafed  at  such  a  proceeding,  and 
called  it  a  most  "insufferable  pretension,"  she  was  perhaps 
not  sorry  secretly  at  the  opportunity  afforded  herself  to  let 
the  tiresome  old  woman  guess  how  she  regarded  her,  and 
what  might  be  their  future  relations  towards  each  other. 
*'  Not  indeed,"  added  she,  "  that  we  are  likely  ever  to  meet 
again,  or  that  I  should  recognize  her  beyond  a  bow  if  we 
should." 

As  for  Kearney,  the  announcement  that  Miss  Betty  was 
about  to  appear  in  public  filled  him  with  unmixed  terror,  and 
he  muttered  drearily  as  he  went,  "There'll  be  wigs  on  the 
Green  for  this."  Nor  was  Walpole  himself  pleased  at  the 
arrangement.  Like  most  men  in  his  position,  he  could  not 
be  brought  to  see  the  delicacy  or  the  propriety  of  being 
paraded  as  an  object  of  public  inspection,  nor  did  he  per- 
ceive the  fitness  of  that  display  of  trinkets  which  he  had 
brought  with  him  as  presents,  and  the  sight  of  which  had 
become  a  sort  of  public  necessity. 

Not  the  least  strange  part  of  the  whole  procedure  was 
that   no   one   could    tell   where    or    how   or   with   whom   it 


PLEASANT   CONGRATULATIONS.  553 

originated.  It  was  like  one  of  those  movements  which  are 
occasionally  seen  in  political  life,  where,  without  the  direct 
intervention  of  any  precise  agent,  a  sort  of  diffused  atmos- 
phere of  public  opinion  suffices  to  produce  results  and  effect 
changes  that  all  are  ready  to  disavow  but  accept  of. 

The  mere  fact  of  the  pleasure  the  prospect  afforded  to  Miss 
Betty  prevented  Kate  from  offering  opposition  to  what  she 
felt  to  be  both  bad  in  taste  and  ridiculous. 

"That  old  lady  imagines,  I  believe,  that  I  anT  to  come 
down  like  a  pretendu  in  a  French  vaudeville, — dressed  in 
a  tail-coat,  with  a  white  tie  and  white  gloves,  and  perhaps 
receive  her  benediction.  She  mistakes  herself,  she  mistakes 
us.  If  there  was  a  casket  of  uncouth  old  diamonds,  or 
some  marvellous  old  point-lace  to  grace  the  occasion,  we 
might  play  our  parts  with  a  certain  decorous  hypocrisy; 
but  to  be  stared  at  through  a  double  eye-glass  by  a  snuffy 
old  woman  in  black  mittens,  is  more  than  one  is  called  on 
to  endure,  —  eh,  Lockwood  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  think  I'd  go  through  it  all  gladly  to 
have  the  occasion." 

"  Have  a  little  patience,  old  fellow,  it  will  all  come  right. 
My  worthy  relatives  —  for  I  suppose  I  can  call  them  so  now 
—  are  too  shrewd  people  to  refuse  the  offer  of  such  a  fellow 
as  you.  They  have  that  native  pride  that  demands  a  certain 
amount  of  etiquette  and  deference.  They  must  not  seem  to 
rise  too  eagerly  to  the  fly  ;  but  only  give  them  time,  —  give 
them  time,  Lockwood." 

''  Aye,  but  the  waiting  in  this  uncertainty  is  terrible  to 
me." 

"  Let  it  be  certainty,  then,  and  for  very  little  I'll  ensure 
you  !  Bear  this  in  mind,  my  dear  fellow,  and  you  '11  see  how 
little  need  tliere  is  for  apprehension.  You,  — and  the  men 
like  you,  —  snug  fellows  with  comfortable  estates  and  no 
mortgages,  unhampered  by  ties  and  uninfluenced  by  con- 
nections, are  a  species  of  plant  that  is  rare  everywhere, 
but  actually  never  grew  at  all  in  Ireland,  where  every  one 
spent  double  his  income,  and  seldom  dared  to  move  a  step 
without  a  committee  of  relations.  Old  Kearney  has  gone 
through  that  fat  volume  of  the  gentry  and  squirearchy  of 
England  last   night,    and   from    Sir   Simon   de    Lokewood, 


554  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

who  was  killed  at  Crecy,  down  to  a  certain  major  in  the 
Carbineers,  he  knows  you  all." 

^'  I  '11  bet  you  a  thousand  they  say  No." 

"I've  not  got  a  thousand  to  pay  if  I  should  lose,  but  I  '11 
lay  a  pony  —  two,  if  you  like  —  that  you  are  an  accepted  man 
this  day  —  aye,  before  dinner." 

"  If  I  only  thought  so !  " 

"  Confound  it,  —  you  don't  pretend  you  are  in  love !  " 

''  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  or  not,  but  I  do  know  howl 
should  like  to  bring  that  nice  girl  back  to  Hampshire,  and 
install  her  at  the  Dingle.  I  've  a  tidy  stable,  some  nice  shoot- 
ing, a  good  trout-stream,  and  then  I  should  have  the  prettiest 
wife  in  the  county." 

' '  Happy  dog  !  Yours  is  the  real  philosophy  of  life.  The 
fellows  who  are  realistic  enough  to  reckon  up  the  material 
elements  of  their  happiness,  —  who  have  little  to  speculate  on 
and  less  to  unbelieve,  — they  are  right." 

''  If  you  mean  that  I  '11  never  break  my  heart  because  I 
don't  get  in  for  the  county,  that 's  true,  —  I  don't  deny  it. 
But  come,  tell  me,  is  it  all  settled  about  your  business? 
Has  the  uncle  been  asked?  —  has  he  spoken?" 

"He  has  been  asked  and  given  his  consent.  My  dis- 
tinguished father-in-law,  the  Prince,  has  been  telegraphed 
to  this  morning,  and  his  reply  may  be  here  to-night  or  to- 
morrow. At  all  events,  we  are  determined  that  even  should 
he  prove  adverse,  we  shall  not  be  deterred  from  our  wishes 
by  the  caprice  of  a  parent  who  has  abandoned  us." 

"  It 's  what  people  would  call  a  love-match." 

"I  sincerely  trust  it  is.  If  her  affections  were  not  inex- 
tricably engaged,  it  is  not  possible  that  such  a  girl  could 
pledge  her  future  to  a  man  as  humble  as  myself." 

"  That  is,  she  is  very  much  in  love  with  you?'' 

"  I  hope  the  astonishment  of  your  question  does  not  arise 
from  its  seeming  difficulty  of  belief?  " 

"  No,  not  so  much  that,  but  I  thought  there  might  have 
been  a  little  heroics,  or  whatever  it  is,  on  your  side." 

"  Most  dull  dragoon,  do  you  not  know  that,  so  long  as  a 
man  spoons,  he  can  talk  of  his  affection  for  a  woman ;  but 
that,  once  she  is  about  to  be  his  wife  or  is  actually  his  wife, 
he  limits  his  avowals  to  her  love  for  Jiim  f  " 


PLEASANT  CONGRATULATIONS.  655 

*'  I  never  heard  that  before.  I  say,  what  a  swell  you  are 
this  morning  !  The  cock-pheasants  will  mistake  you  for  one 
of  them." 

'*  Nothing  can  be  simpler,  nothing  quieter,  I  trust,  than  a 
suit  of  dark  purple  knickerbockers ;  and  you  may  see  that 
my  thread  stockings  and  my  coarse  shoes  presuppose  a 
stroll  in  the  plantations,  where,  indeed,  I  mean  to  smoke 
my  morning  cigar." 

"  She'll  make  you  give  up  tobacco^  I  suppose?" 

''  Nothing  of  the  kind,  —  a  thorough  woman  of  the  world 
enforces  no  such  penalties  as  these.  True  free- trade  is  the 
great  matrimonial  maxim,  and  for  people  of  small  means  it 
is  inestimable.  The  formula  may  be  stated  thus,  —  '  Dine 
at  the  best  houses,  and  give  tea  at  your  own.'  " 

What  other  precepts  of  equal  wisdom  Walpole  was  pre- 
pared to  enunciate  were  lost  to  the  world  by  a  message 
informing  him  that  Miss  Betty  was  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  the  family  assembled  to  see  him. 

Cecil  Walpole  possessed  a  very  fair  stock  of  that  useful 
quality  called  assurance  ;  but  he  had  no  more  than  he  needed 
to  enter  that  large  room,  where  the  assembled  family  sat  in 
a  half-circle,  and  stand  to  be  surveyed  by  Miss  O'Shea's  eye- 
glass, unabashed.  Nor  was  the  ordeal  the  less  trying  as  he 
overheard  the  old  lady  ask  her  neighbor,  "if  he  was  n't  the 
image  of  the  Knave  of  Diamonds." 

"  I  thought  you  were  the  other  man !  "  said  she,  curtly,  as 
he  made  his  bow. 

"  I  deplore  the  disappointment,  madam,  —  even  though  I 
do  not  comprehend  it." 

"It  was  the  picture,  the  photograph,  of  the  other  man  I 
saw,  — a  fine,  tall,  dark  man,  with  long  moustaches." 

"The  fine,  tall,  dark  man,  with  the  long  moustaches,  is  in 
the  house,  and  will  be  charmed  to  be  presented  to  you." 

"  Aye,  aye  !  presented  is  all  very  fine  ;  but  that  won't  make 
bim  the  bridegroom,"  said  she,  with  a  laugh. 

"I  sincerely  trust  it  will  not,  madam." 

"  And  it  is  you,  then,  are  Major  Walpole?  " 

"Mr.  Walpole,  madam, — my  friend  Lockwood  is  the 
Major." 

"To  be  sure.     I  have  it  right  now.     You  are  the  young 


556  LOKD  KILGOBBIN. 

man  that  got  into  that  unhappy  scrape,  and  got  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  turned  away  —  " 

"  I  wonder  how  you  endure  this,"  burst  out  Nina,  as  she 
arose  and  walked  angrily  towards  a  window. 

"  I  don't  think  I  caught  what  the  young  lady  said  ;  but  if 
it  was  that  what  cannot  be  cured  must  be  endured,  it  is  true 
enough  ;  and  I  suppose  that  they  '11  get  over  your  blunder  as 
they  have  done  many  another." 

'*  I  live  in  that  hope,  madam." 

"  Not  but  it 's  a  bad  beginning  in  public  life ;  and  a  stupid 
mistake  hangs  long  on  a  man's  memory.  You're  young, 
however,  and  people  are  generous  enough  to  believe  it  might 
be  a  youthful  indiscretion." 

''  You  give  me  great  comfort,  madam." 

"  And  now  you  are  going  to  risk  another  venture?" 

"I  sincerely  trust  on  safer  grounds." 

''That's  what  they  all  think.  I  never  knew  a  man  that 
didn't  believe  he  drew  the  prize  in  matrimony.  Ask  him, 
however,  six  months  after  he's  tied.  Say,  'What  do  you 
think  of  your  ticket  now?'  Eh,  Mat  Kearney?  It  doesn't 
take  twenty  or  thirty  years'  quarrelling  and  disputing  to 
show  one  that  a  lottery  with  so  many  blanks  is  just  a 
swindle." 

A  loud  bang  of  the  door,  as  Nina  flounced  out  in  indigna- 
tion, almost  shook  the  room. 

"There's  a  temper  you'll  know  more  of  yet,  young 
gentleman;  and,  take  my  word  for  it,  it's  only  in  stage- 
plays  that  a  shrew  is  ever  tamed." 

"I  declare,"  cried  Dick,  losing  all  patience,  "I  think 
Miss  O'Shea  is  too  unsparing  of  us  all.  We  have  our  faults, 
I  'm  sure ;  but  public  correction  will  not  make  us  more 
comfortable." 

"  It  wasn't  your  comfort  I  was  thinking  of,  young  man  ; 
and  if  I  thought  of  your  poor  father's,  I  'd  have  advised  him 
to  put  you  out  an  apprentice.  There 's  many  a  light  busi- 
ness, —  like  stationery,  or  figs,  or  children's  toys,  —  and  they 
want  just  as  little  capital  as  capacity." 

"  Miss  Betty,"  said  Kearney,  stiffl}^,  "  this  is  not  the  time 
nor  the  place  for  these  discussions.  Mr.  Walpole  was  polite 
enough  to  present  himself  here  to-day  to  have   the  honor 


PLEASANT  CONGRATULATIONS.  557 

of  makiDg  your  acquaintaDce,  and  to  announce  his  future 
marriage." 

''A  great  event  for  us  all,  —  and  we  're  proud  of  it !  It's 
what  the  newspapers  will  call  a  great  day  for  the  Bog  of 
Allen.  Eh,  Mat?  The  Princess, — God  forgive  me,  but 
I  'm  always  calling  her  Kostigan,  —  but  the  Princess  will  be 
set  down  niece  to  Lord  Kilgobbin ;  and  if  you "  —  and  she 
addressed  Walpole  —  ''haven't  a  mock  title  and  a  mock 
estate,  you  '11  be  the  only  one  without  them  !  " 

''  I  don't  think  any  one  will  deny  us  our  tempers,"  cried 
Kearney. 

"Here's  Lockwood,"  cried  Walpole,  delighted  to  see  his 
friend  enter,  though  he  as  quickly  endeavored  to  retreat. 

"Come  in.  Major,"  said  Kearney.  "We're  all  friends 
here.  Miss  O'Shea,  this  is  Major  Lockwood,  of  the  Carbi- 
neers —  Miss  O'Shea." 

Lockwood  bowed  stiffly,  but  did  not  speak. 

"  Be  attentive  to  the  old  woman,"  whispered  Walpole. 
"A  word  from  her  will  make  your  affair  all  right." 

"  I  have  been  very  desirous  to  have  had  the  honor  of  this 
introduction,  madam,"  said  Lockwood,  as  he  seated  himself 
at  her  side. 

"Was  not  that  a  clever  diversion  I  accomplished  with 
*  the  Heavy '  ?  "  said  Walpole,  as  he  drew  away  Kearney 
and  his  son  into  a  window. 

"I  never  heard  her  much  worse  than  to-day,"  said  Dick. 

"I  don't  know,"  hesitated  Kilgobbin.  "I  suspect  she  is 
breaking.  There  is  none  of  the  sustained  virulence  I  used 
to  remember  of  old.  She  lapses  into  half-mildness  at 
moments." 

"I  own  I  did  not  catch  them,  nor,  I  'm  afraid,  did  Nina," 
said  Dick.  "Look  there!  I'll  be  shot,  if  she  's  not  giving 
your  friend  the  Major  a  lesson!  When  she  performs  in 
that  way  with  her  hands,  you  may  swear  she  is  didactic." 

"I  think  I  '11  go  to  his  relief,"  said  Walpole;  "but  I  own 
it's  a  case  for  the  V.  C." 

As  Walpole  drew  nigh,  he  heard  her  saying,  "  Marry  one 
of  your  own  race,  and  you  will  jog  on  well  enough.  Marry 
a  Frenchwoman  or  a  Spaniard,  and  she  '11  lead  her  own  life, 
and  be  very  well  satisfied;  but  a  poor   Irish   girl,  with  a 


558  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

fresh  heart  and  a  joyous  temper,  —  what  is  to  become  of 
her,  with  your  dull  habits  and  your  dreary  intercourse, 
your  county  society  and  your  Chinese  manners !  " 

''Miss  O'Shea  is  telling  me  that  I  must  not  look  for  a 
wife  among  her  countrywomen,"  said  Lockwood,  with  a 
touching  attempt  to  smile. 

''What  I  overheard  was  not  encouraging,"  said  Walpole; 
"but  I  think  Miss  O'Shea  takes  a  low  estimate  of  our  social 
temperament." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind!  All  I  say  is,  you'll  do  mighty 
well  for  each  other;  or,  for  aught  I  know,  you  might  in- 
termarry with  the  Dutch  or  the  Germans;  but  it 's  a  down- 
right shame  to  unite  your  slow  sluggish  spirits  with  the 
sparkling  brilliancy  and  impetuous  joy  of  an  Irish  girl. 
That 's  a  union  I  'd  never  consent  to." 

"I  hope  this  is  no  settled  resolution,"  said  Walpole,  speak- 
ing in  a  low  whisper;  "for  I  want  to  bespeak  your  especial 
influence  in  my  friend's  behalf.  Major  Lockwood  is  a 
most  impassioned  'admirer  of  Miss  Kearney,  and  has 
already  declared  as  much  to  her  father," 

"Come  over  here,  Mat  Kearney!  come  over  here  this 
moment!"  cried  she,  half  wild  with  excitement.  "What 
new  piece  of  roguery,  what  fresh  intrigue  is  this?  Will 
you  dare  to  tell  me  you  had  a  proposal  for  Kate,  for  my 
own  god-daughter,  without  even  so  much  as  telling  me?" 

"My  dear  Miss  Betty,  be  calm,  be  cool  for  one  minute, 
and  I  '11  tell  you  everything." 

"Ay,  when  I  've  found  it  out.  Mat! " 

"I  profess  I  don't  think  my  friend's  pretensions  are  dis- 
cussed with  much  delicacy,  time  and  place  considered,"  said 
Walpole. 

"We  have  something  to  think  of  as  well  as  delicacy, 
young  man;  there's  a  woman's  happiness  to  be  remem- 
bered." 

"Here  it  is,  now, — the  whole  business,"  said  Kearney. 
"The  Major  there  asked  me  yesterday  to  get  my  daughter's 
consent  to  his  addresses." 

"And  you  never  told  me,"  cried  Miss  Betty. 

"No,  indeed,  nor  herself  neither;  for  after  I  turned  it 
over  in  my  mind  I  began  to  see  it  would  n't  do —  " 


PLEASANT  CONGRATULATIONS.  559 

"How  do  you  mean  not  do?  "  asked  Lock  wood. 

'* Just  let  me  finish.  What  I  mean  is  this,  —  if  a  man 
wants  to  marry  an  Irish  girl,  he  mustn't  begin  by  asking 
leave  to  make  love  to  her  —  " 

"Mat 's  right!  "  cried  the  old  lady,  stoutly. 

"And,  above  all,  he  oughtn't  to  think  that  the  short  cut 
to  her  heart  is  through  his  broad  acres." 

"Mat 's  right,  —  quite  right!  " 

"And  besides  this,  that  the  more  a  man  dwells  on  his 
belongings,  and  the  settlements,  and  such  like,  the  more  he 
seems  to  say,  '  I  may  not  catch  your  fancy  in  everything,  I 
may  not  ride  as  boldly  or  dance  as  well  as  somebody  else ; 
but  never  mind, —  you  're  making  a  very  prudent  match,  and 
there  is  a  deal  of  pure  affection  in  the  Three  per  Cents. '  " 

"And  I  '11  give  you  another  reason,"  said  Miss  Betty, 
resolutely.  "Kate  Kearney  cannot  have  two  husbands, 
and  I  've  made  her  promise  to  marry  my  nephew  this 
morning." 

"What!  without  any  leave  of  mine? "  exclaimed  Kearney. 

"Just  so.  Mat.  She  '11  marry  him  if  you  give  your  con- 
sent; but  whether  you  will  or  not,  she  '11  never  marry 
another." 

"Is  there,  then,  a  real  engagement?"  whispered  Walpole 
to  Kearney.     "Has  my  friend  here  got  his  answer?  " 

"He  '11  not  wait  for  another,"  said  Lockwood,  haughtily, 
as  he  arose.     "I  'm  for  town,  Cecil,"  whispered  he. 

"So  shall  I  be  this  evening,"  replied  Walpole,  in  the 
same  tone.  "I  must  hurry  over  to  London  and  see  Lord 
Danesbury.  I  've  my  troubles,  too."  And  so  saying,  he 
drew  his  arm  within  the  Major's,  and  led  him  away;  while 
Miss  Betty,  with  Kearney  on  one  side  of  her  and  Dick  on 
the  other,  proceeded  to  recount  the  arrangement  she  had 
made  to  make  over  the  Barn  and  the  estate  to  Gorman,  it 
being  her  own  intention  to  retire  altogether  from  the  world 
and  finish  her  days  in  the  "Retreat." 

"And  a  very  good  thing  to  do,  too,"  said  Kearney,  who 
was  too  much  impressed  with  the  advantages  of  the  project 
to  rememjber  his  politeness. 

"I  have  had  enough  of  it,  Mat,"  added  she,  in  a  lugu- 
brious tone;  "and  it's  all  backbiting  and  lying  and  mis- 


560  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

chief -making,  and  what 's  worse,  by  the  people  who  might 
live  quietly  and  let  others  do  the  same !  " 

"What  you  say  is  true  as  the  Bible." 

''It  may  be  hard  to  do  it.  Mat  Kearney;  but  I'll  pray 
for  them  in  my  hours  of  solitude,  and  in  that  blessed 
Retreat  I  '11  ask  for  a  blessing  on  yourself,  and  that  your 
heart,  hard  and  cruel  and  worldly  as  it  is  now,  may  be 
changed ;  and  that  in  your  last  days,  —  maybe  on  the  bed 
of  sickness,  —  when  you  are  writhing  and  twisting  with 
pain,  with  a  bad  heart  and  a  worse  conscience,  when  you  '11 
have  nobody  but  hirelings  near  you,  —  hirelings  that  will 
be  robbing  you  before  your  eyes,  and  not  waiting  till  the 
breath  leaves  you,  —  when  even  the  drop  of  drink  to  cool 
your  lips  —  " 

"Don't  —  don't  go  on  that  way.  Miss  Betty.  I  've  a  cold 
shivering  down  the  spine  of  my  back  this  minute,  and  a 
sickness  creeping  all  over  me." 

"I'm  glad  of  it.  I'm  glad  that  my  words  have  power 
over  your  wicked  old  nature,  — if  it's  not  too  late." 

"If  it 's  miserable  and  wretched  you  wanted  to  make  me, 
don't  fret  about  your  want  of  success;  though,  whether  it 
all  comes  too  late,  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"We  '11  leave  that  to  St.  Joseph." 

"Do  so!  do  so!  "  cried  he,  eagerly;  for  he  had  a  shrewd 
suspicion  he  would  have  better  chances  of  mercy  at  any 
hands  than  her  own. 

"As  for  Gorman,  if  I  find  that  he  has  any  notions  about 
claiming  an  acre  of  the  property,  I  '11  put  it  all  into  Chan- 
cery, and  the  suit  will  outlive  him  ;  but  if  he  owns  he  is 
entirely  dependent  on  my  bounty,  I  '11  settle  the  Barn  and 
the  land  on  him,  and  the  deed  shall  be  signed  the  day 
he  marries  your  daughter.  People  tell  you  that  you  can't 
take  your  money  with  you  into  the  next  world.  Mat  Kearney ; 
and  a  greater  lie  was  never  uttered.  Thanks  to  the  laws  of 
England,  and  the  Court  of  Equity  in  particular,  it's  the 
very  thing  you  can  do !  Aye,  and  you  can  provide,  besides, 
that  everybody  but  the  people  that  had  a  right  to  it  shall 
have  a  share.  So  I  say  to  Gorman  O'Shea,  beware  what 
you  are  at,  and  don't  go  on  repeating  that  stupid  falsehood 
about  not  carrying  your  debentures  into  the  next  world." 


PLEASANT  CONGRATULATIONS.  561 

^'You  are  a  wise  woman,  and  you  know  life  well,"  said 
he,  solemnly. 

"And  if  I  am,  it's  nothing  to  sigh  over,  Mr.  Kearney. 
One  is  grateful  for  mercies,  but  does  not  groan  over  th^m 
like  rheumatism  or  the  lumbago." 

*' Maybe  I  'm  a  little  out  of  spirits  to-day." 

"I  should  n't  wonder  if  you  were.  They  tell  me  you  sat 
over  your  wine,  with  that  tall  man,  last  night,  till  nigh 
one  o'clock,  and  it's  not  at  your  time  of  life  that  you  can 
do  these  sort  of  excesses  with  impunity;  you  had  a  good 
constitution  once,  and  there  's  not  much  left  of  it." 

"My  patience,  I  'm  grateful  to  see,  has  not  quite  deserted 
me." 

"I  hope  there's  other  of  your  virtues  you  can  be  more 
sure  of,"  said  she,  rising;  "for  if  I  was  asked  your  worst 
failing,  I'd  say  it  was  your  irritability."  And  with  a 
stern  frown,  as  though  to  confirm  the  judicial  severity  of 
her  words,  she  nodded  her  head  to  him  and  walked  away. 

It  was  only  then  that  Kearney  discovered  he  was  left 
alone,  and  that  Dick  had  stolen  away,  though  when  or  how 
he  could  not  say. 

"I'm  glad  the  boy  was  not  listening  to  her,  for  I'm 
downright  ashamed  that  I  bore  it,"  was  his  final  reflection 
as  he  strolled  out  to  take  a  walk  in  the  plantation. 


36 


CHAPTER   LXXX. 

A    NEW   ARRIVAL. 

Though  the  dinner-party  that  day  at  Kilgobbin  Castle  was 
deficient  in  the  persons  of  Lockwood  and  Walpole,  the 
accession  of  Joe  Atlee  to  the  company  made  up  in  a  great 
measure  for  the  loss.  He  arrived  shortly  before  dinner  was 
announced;  and  even  in  the  few  minutes  in  the  drawing- 
room,  his  gay  and  lively  manner,  his  pleasant  flow  of  small 
talk,  dashed  with  the  lightest  of  epigrams,  and  that  mar- 
vellous variety  he  possessed,  made  every  one  delighted 
with  him. 

"I  met  Walpole  and  Lockwood  at  the  station,  and  did 
my  utmost  to  make  them  turn  back  with  me.  You  may 
laugh,  Lord  Kilgobbin,  but  in  doing  the  honors  of  another 
man's  house,  as  I  was  at  that  moment,  I  deem  myself  with- 
out a  rival.'* 

"I  wish  with  all  my  heart  you  had  succeeded;  there  is 
nothing  I  like  as  much  as  a  well-filled  table,"  said  Kearney. 

"Not  that  their  air  and  manner,"  resumed  Joe,  "im- 
pressed me  strongly  with  the  exuberance  of  their  spirits;  a 
pair  of  drearier  dogs  I  have  not  seen  for  some  time,  and  I 
believe  I  told  them  so." 

"Did  they  explain  their  gloom,  or  even  excuse  it?  "  asked 
Dick. 

"Except  on  the  general  grounds  of  coming  away  from 
such  fascinating  society.  Lockwood  played  sulky,  and 
scarcely  vouchsafed  a  word ;  and  as  for  Walpole,  he  made 
some  high-flown  speeches  about  his  regrets  and  his  torn 
sensibilities,  —  so  like  what  one  reads  in  a  French  novel 
that  the  very  sound  of  them  betrays  unreality." 

"But  was  it  then  so  very  impossible  to  be  sorry  for  leav- 
ing this?"  asked  Nina,  calmly. 


A  NEW  ARRIVAL.  563 

"Certainly  not  for  any  man  but  Walpole." 

"  And  why  not  Walpole  ?  " 

"Can  you  ask  me?  You  who  know  people  so  well,  and 
read  them  so  clearly ;  you,  to  whom  the  secret  anatomy  of 
the  *  heart '  is  no  mystery,  and  who  understand  how  to  trace 
the  fibre  of  intense  selfishness  through  every  tissue  of  his 
small  nature.  He  might  be  miserable  at  being  separated 
from  himself ;  there  could  be  no  other  estrangement  woulc^ 
affect  Aim." 

"This  was  not  always  your  estimate  of  youv  frie7id,"  said 
Nina,  with  a  marked  emphasis  of  the  last  word. 

"Pardon  me,  it  was  my  unspoken  opinion  from  the  first 
hour  I  met  him.  Since  then,  some  space  of  time  has  inter- 
vened ;  and  though  it  has  made  no  change  in  him,  I  hope 
it  has  dealt  otherwise  with  me.  I  have  at  least  reached  the 
point  in  life  where  men  not  only  have  convictions,  but 
avow  them." 

"Come,  come;  lean  remember  what  precious  good  luck 
you  called  it  to  make  his  acquaintance,"  cried  Dick,  half 
angrily. 

"I  don't  deny  it.  I  was  very  nigh  drowning  at  the  time, 
and  it  was  the  first  plank  I  caught  hold  of.  I  am  very 
grateful  to  him  for  the  rescue;  but  I  owe  him  more  grati- 
tude for  the  opportunity  the  incident  gave  me  to  see  these 
men  in  their  intimacy;  to  know,  and  know  thoroughly, 
what  is  the  range,  what  the  stamp  of  those  minds  by  which 
states  are  ruled  and  masses  are  governed.  Through  Wal- 
pole I  knew  his  master;  and  through  the  master  I  have 
come  to  know  the  slipshod  intelligences  which,  composed 
of  official  detail.  House  of  Commons  gossip,  and  '  Times  ' 
leaders,  are  accepted  by  us  as  statesmen.  And  if  —  "  A 
very  supercilious  smile  on  Nina's  mouth  arrested  him  in 
the  current  of  his  speech,  and  he  said:  "I  know,  of  course, 

—  I  know  the  question  you  are  too  polite  to  ask,  but  which 
quivers  on  your  lip:  '  Who  is  the  gifted  creature  that 
sees  all  this  incompetence  and  insufficiency  around  him?  ' 
And  I  am  quite  ready  to  tell  you.  It  is  .Joseph  Atlee,  — 
Joseph  Atlee,  who  knows  that  when  he  and  others  like  him 

—  for  we  are  a  strong  coterie  —  stop  the  supply  of  ammuni* 
tion,  these  gentlemen  must  cease  firing.     Let  the  '  Debats ' 


564  LOKD   KILGOBBIN. 

and  the  *  Times,  *  the  '  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  '  and  the 
'  Saturday, '  and  a  few  more  that  I  need  not  stop  to  enu- 
merate, strike  work ;  and  let  us  see  how  much  of  original 
thought  you  will  obtain  from  your  Cabinet  sages!  It  is 
in  the  clash  and  collision  of  the  thinkers  outside  of  respon- 
sibility that  these  world-revered  leaders  catch  the  fire  that 
lights  up  their  policy.  The  '  Times '  made  the  Crimean 
blunder.  The  '  Siecle  *  created  the  Mexican  fiasco.  The 
*  Kreutz  Zeitung '  gave  the  first  impulse  to  the  Schleswig- 
Holstein  imbroglio ;  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  '  review '  in 
the  last  '  Diplomatic  Chronicle  '  will  bear  results  of  which 
he  who  now  speaks  to  you  will  not  disown  the  parentage." 

"The  saints  be  praised!  here  's  dinner,"  exclaimed  Kear- 
ney, "  or  this  fellow  would  talk  us  into  a  brain-fever.  Kate 
is  dining  with  Miss  Betty  again;  God  bless  her  for  it," 
muttered  he,  as  he  gave  his  arm  to  Nina,  and  led  the 
way. 

"I  've  got  you  a  commission  as  a  *  Peeler,'  Dick,"  said 
Joe,  as  they  moved  along.  "  You  '11  have  to  prove  that 
you  can  read  and  write,  which  is  more  than  they  would  ask 
of  you  if  you  were  going  into  the  Cabinet;  but  we  live  in 
an  intellectual  age,  and  we  test  all  the  cabin-boys,  and  it  is 
only  the  steersman  we  take  on  trust." 

Though  Nina  was  eager  to  resent  Atlee's  impertinence 
on  Walpole,  she  could  not  help  feeling  interested  and 
amused  by  his  sketches  of  his  travels. 

If,  in  speaking  of  Greece,  he  only  gave  the  substance  of 
the  article  he  had  written  for  the  "Revue  des  Deux  Mondes," 
as  the  paper  was  yet  unpublished,  all  the  remarks  were  novel, 
and  the  anecdotes  fresh  and  sparkling.  The  tone  of  light 
banter  and  raillery  in  which  he  described  public  life  in 
Greece  and  Greek  statesmen,  might  have  lost  some  of  its 
authority  had  any  one  remembered  to  count  the  hours  the 
speaker  had  spent  in  Athens;  and  Nina  was  certainly 
indignant  at  the  hazardous  effrontery  of  the  criticisms.  It 
was  not,  then,  without  intention  that  she  arose  to  retire 
while  Atlee  was  relating  an  interesting  story  of  brigandage; 
and  he,  determined  to  repay  the  impertinence  in  kind,  con- 
tinued to  recount  his  history  as  he  arose  to  open  the  door 
for  her  to  pass  out.     Her  insolent  look  as  she  swept  by  was 


A  NEW  ARRIVAL.  565 

met  by  a  smile  of  admiration  on  his  part  that  actually  made 
her  cheek  tingle  with  anger. 

Old  Kearney  dozed  off  gently,  under  the  influence  of 
names  of  places  and  persons  that  did  not  interest  bim;  and 
the  two  young  men  drew  their  chairs  to  the  fire,  and  grew 
confidential  at  once. 

"I  think  you  have  sent  my  cousin  away  in  bad  humor," 
said  Dick. 

'^I  see  it,"  said  Joe,  as  he  slowly  puffed  his  cigar. 
"That  young  lady's  head  has  been  so  cruelly  turned  by 
flattery  of  late,  that  the  man  who  does  not  swing  incense 
before  her  affronts  her. " 

"Yes;  but  you  went  out  of  your  way  to  provoke  her.  It 
is  true  she  knows  little  of  Greece  or  Greeks,  but  it  offends 
her  to  hear  them  slighted  or  ridiculed,  and  you  took  pains 
to  do  both." 

"Contemptible  little  country!  with  a  mock  army,  a  mock 
treasury,  and  a  mock  Chamber.  The  only  thing  real  is 
the  debt  and  the  brigandage." 

"But  why  tell  her  so?  You  actually  seemed  bent  on 
irritating  her." 

"Quite  true,  —  so  I  was.  My  dear  Dick,  you  have  some 
lessons  to  learn  in  life;  and  one  of  them  is  that,  just  as  it 
is  bad  heraldry  to  put  color  on  color,  it  is  an  egregious 
blunder  to  follow  flattery  by  flattery.  The  woman  who  has 
been  spoiled  by  over-admiration  must  be  approached  with 
something  else  as  unlike  it  as  may  be;  pique,  annoy,  irri- 
tate, outrage,  but  take  care  that  you  interest  her.  Let  her 
only  come  to  feel  what  a  very  tiresome  thing  mere  adulation 
is,  and  she  will  one  day  value  your  two  or  three  civil 
speeches  as  gems  of  priceless  worth.  It  is  exactly  because 
I  deeply  desire  to  gain  her  affections,  I  have  begun  in  this 
way." 

"You  have  come  too  late." 

"How  do  you  mean  too  late,  — she  is  not  engaged?" 
.    "She  is  engaged;  she  is  to  be  married  to  Walpole." 

"To  Walpole!" 

"Yes;  he  came  over  a  few  days  ago  to  ask  her.  There 
is  some  question  now  —  I  don't  well  understand  it  —  about 
some   family    consent,    or    an    invitation,  — something,    I 


566  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

believe,  that  Nina  insists  on,  to  show  the  world  how  hia 
family  welcome  her  amongst  them ;  and  it  is  for  this  he  has 
gone  to  London,  but  to  be  back  in  eight  or  nine  days,  the 
wedding  to  take  place  towards  the  end  of  the  month." 

''Is  he  very  much  in  love?" 

"I  should  say  he  is." 

"And  she?  Of  course  she  could  not  possibly  care  for  a 
fellow  like  Walpole?" 

"1  don't  see  why  not.  He  is  very  much  the  stamp  of 
man  girls  admire." 

"Not  girls  like  Nina;  not  girls  who  aspire  to  a  position 
in  life,  and  who  know  that  the  little  talents  of  the  salon  no 
more  make  a  man  of  the  world  than  the  tricks  of  the  circus 
will  make  a  fox-hunter.  These  ambitious  women  —  she  is 
one  of  them  —  will  marry  a  hopeless  idiot  if  he  can  bring 
wealth  and  rank  and  a  great  name;  but  they  will  not  take  a 
brainless  creature  who  has  to  work  his  way  up  in  the  world. 
If  she  has  accepted  Walpole,  there  is  pique  in  it,  or  ennui^ 
or  that  uneasy  desire  of  change  that  girls  suffer  from  like 
a  malady." 

"I  cannot  tell  you  why,  but  I  know  she  has  accepted 
him." 

"Women  are  not  insensible  to  the  value  of  second 
thoughts." 

"You  mean  she  might  throw  him  over,  —  might  jilt 
him?" 

"I  '11  not  employ  the  ugly  word  that  makes  the  wrong  it 
is  only  meant  to  indicate;  but  there  are  few  of  our  resolves 
in  life  to  which  we  might  not  move  amendment;  and  the 
changed  opinion  a  woman  forms  of  a  man  before  marriage 
would  become  a  grievous  injury  if  it  happened  after." 

"But  must  she  of  necessity  change?  " 

"If  she  marry  Walpole,  I  should  say  certainly.  If  a  girl 
has  fair  abilities  and  a  strong  temper,  —  and  Nina  has  a 
good  share  of  each, —  she  will  endure  faults,  actual  vices,  in 
a  man,  but  she  '11  not  stand  littleness.  Walpole  has  nothing 
else ;  and  so  I  hope  to  prove  to  her  to-morrow  and  the  day 
after,  —  in  fact,  during  those  eight  or  ten  days  you  tell  me 
he  will  be  absent." 

"Will  she  let  you?     Will  she  listen  to  you?  " 


A   NEW   ARRIVAL.  567 

*'Not  at  first, — at  least,  not  willingly  or  very  easily; 
but  I  will  show  her,  by  numerous  little  illustrations  and 
even  fables,  where  these  small  people  not  only  spoil  their 
fortunes  in  life,  but  spoil  life  itself;  and  what  an  irreparable 
blunder  it  is  to  link  companionship  with  one  of  them.  I  will 
sometimes  make  her  laugh,  and  I  may  have  to  make  her 
cry ;  it  will  not  be  easy,  but  I  shall  do  it.  I  shall  certainly 
make  her  thoughtful ;  and  if  you  can  do  this  day  by  day, 
so  that  a  woman  will  recur  to  the  same  theme  pretty  much 
in  the  same  spirit,  you  must  be  a  sorry  steersman,  Master 
Dick,  but  you  will  know  how  to  guide  these  thoughts,  and 
trace  the  channel  they  shall  follow." 

"  And  supposing,  which  I  do  not  believe,  that  you  could 
get  her  to  break  with  Walpole,  what  could  you  offer  her?  " 

"Myself!" 

"Inestimable  boon,  doubtless;  but  what  of  fortune, — 
position  or  place  in  life?  " 

''The  first  Napoleon  used  to  say  that  the  *  power  of  the 
unknown  number  was  incommensurable;'  and  so  I  don't 
despair  of  showing  her  that  a  man  like  myself  may  be 
anything." 

Dick  shook  his  head  doubtingly,  and  the  other  went  on: 
"In  this  round  game  we  call  life  it  is  all  *  brag.'  The 
fellow  with  the  worst  card  in  the  pack,  if  he  '11  only  risk  his 
head  on  it,  keep  a  bold  face  to  the  world,  and  his  own  coun- 
sel, will  be  sure  to  win.  Bear  in  mind,  Dick,  that  for  some 
time  back  I  have  been  keeping  the  company  of  these  great 
swells  who  sit  highest  in  the  Synagogue  and  dictate  to  us 
small  Publicans.  I  have  listened  to  their  hesitating  counsels 
and  their  uncertain  resojves;  I  have  seen  the  blotted  de- 
spatches and  equivocal  messages  given,  to  be  disavowed  if 
needful;  I  have  assisted  at  those  dress  rehearsals  where 
speech  was  to  follow  speech,  and  what  seemed  an  incau- 
tious avowal  by  one  was  to  be  '  improved  '  into  a  bold 
declaration  by  another,  '  in  another  place.'  In  fact,  my 
good  friend,  I  have  been  near  enough  to  measure  the  mighty 
intelligences  that  direct  us;  and  if  I  were  not  a  believer 
in  Darwin,  I  should  be  very  much  shocked  for  what  humanity 
was  coming  to.  It  is  no  exaggeration  that  I  say,  if  you 
were  to  be  in  the  Home  Office  and  I  at  the  Foreign  Office, 


568  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

without  our  names  being  divulged,  there  is  not  a  man  or 
woman  in  England  would  be  the  wiser  or  the  worse ;  though, 
if  either  of  us  were  to  take  charge  of  the  engine  of  the 
Holyhead  line,  there  would  be  a  smash  or  an  explosion 
before  we  reached  Rugby." 

"  All  that  will  not  enable  you  to  make  a  settlement  on 
Nina  Kostalergi." 

"No;  but  I  '11  marry  her  all  the  same." 

"I  don't  think  so." 

"Will  you  have  a  bet  on  it,  Dick?  What  will  you 
wager  ?  " 

"A  thousand  —  ten,  if  I  had  it;  but  I'll  give  you  ten 
pounds  on  it,  which  is  about  as  much  as  either  of  us  could 
pay." 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  Master  Dick.  As  Robert  Macaire 
says,  '  Je  viens  de  toucher  mes  dividendes, '  and  1  am  in  no 
want  of  money.  The  fact  is,  so  long  as  a  man  can  pay  for 
certain  luxuries  in  life  he  is  well  off;  the  strictly  necessary 
takes  care  of  itself." 

"Does  it?     I  should  like  to  know  how." 

"With  your  present  limited  knowledge  of  life  I  doubt  if 
I  could  explain  it  to  you ;  but  I  will  try,  one  of  these  morn- 
ings. Meanwhile  let  us  go  into  the  drawing-room  and  get 
Mademoiselle  to  sing  for  us.     She  will  sing,  I  take  it?" 

"Of  course  —  if  asked  by  you."  And  there  was  the  very 
faintest  tone  of  sneer  in  the  words. 

And  they  did  go,  and  Mademoiselle  did  sing  all  that 
Atlee  could  ask  her  for;  and  she  was  charming  in  every 
way  that  grace  and  beauty  and  the  wish  to  please  could 
make  her.  Indeed,  to  such  extent  did  she  carry  her  fasci- 
nations that  Joe  grew  thoughtful  at  last,  and  muttered  to 
himself,  "There  is  vendetta  in  this.  It  is  only  a  woman 
knows  how  to  make  a  vengeance  out  of  her  attractions. " 

"Why  are  you  so  serious,  Mr.  Atlee?"  asked  she,  at  last. 

"I  was  thinking  —  I  mean,  I  was  trying  to  think  — yes,  I 
remember  it  now,"  muttered  he.  "I  have  had  a  letter  for 
you  all  this  time  in  my  pocket." 

"A  letter  from  Greece?"  asked  she,  impatiently. 

"No,  — at  least,  I  suspect  not.  It  was  given  me  as  I 
drove  through  the  bog  by  a  barefooted  boy,  who  had  trotted 


A  NEW  ARRIVAL.  569 

after  the  car  for  miles,  and  at  length  overtook  us  by  the 
accident  of  the  horse  picking  up  a  stone  in  his  hoof.  He 
said  it  was  for  '  some  one  at  the  castle,'  and  I  offered  to 
take  charge  of  it,  —  here  it  is ;  "  and  he  produced  a  square- 
shaped  envelope  of  common  coarse-looking  paper,  sealed 
with  red  wax,  and  a  shamrock  for  impress. 

"A  begging-letter,  I  should  say,  from  the  outside,"  said 
Dick. 

"Except  that  there  is  not  one  so  poor  as  to  ask  aid  from 
me,"  added  Nina,  as  she  took  the  document,  glanced  at  the 
writing,  and  placed  it  in  her  pocket. 

As  they  separated  for  the  night,  and  Dick  trotted  up  the 
stairs  at  Atlee's  side,  he  said,  "I  don't  think,  after  all,  my 
ten  pounds  is  so  safe  as  I  fancied." 

"Don't  you?  "  replied  Joe.  "My  impressions  are  all  the 
other  way,  Dick.  It  is  her  courtesy  that  alarms  me.  The 
effort  to  captivate  where  there  is  no  stake  to  win,  means 
mischief.  She  '11  make  me  in  love  with  her  whether  I  will 
or  not."  The  bitterness  of  his  tone,  and  the  impatient  bang 
he  gave  his  door  as  he  passed  in,  betrayed  more  of  temper 
than  was  usual  for  him  to  display ;  and  as  Dick  sought  his 
room,  he  muttered  to  himself,  "I'm  glad  to  see  that  these 
over-cunning  fellows  are  sure  to  meet  their  match,  and  get 
beaten  even  at  the  game  of  their  own  invention." 


CHAPTER  LXXXI. 

AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  CORRESPONDENT. 

It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  the  tenants  to  address  peti- 
tions and  complaints  in  writing  to  Kate ;  and  it  occurred  to 
Nina  as  not  impossible  that  some  one  might  have  bethought 
him  of  entreating  her  intercession  in  their  favor.  The  look 
of  the  letter,  and  the  coarse  wax,  and  the  writing,  all  in  a 
measure  strengthened  this  impression;  and  it  was  in  the 
most  careless  of  moods  she  broke  the  envelope,  scarcely 
caring  to  look  for  the  name  of  the  writer,  whom  she  was 
convinced  must  be  unknown  to  her. 

She  had  just  let  her  hair  fall  freely  down  on  her  neck  and 
shoulders,  and  was  seated  in  a  deep  chair  before  her  fire,  as 
she  opened  the  paper  and  read,  "Mademoiselle  Kostalergi." 
This  beginning,  so  unlikely  for  a  peasant,  made  her  turn 
for  the  name;  and  she  read,  in  a  large  full  hand,  the  words 
"Daniel  Donogan."  So  complete  was  her  surprise,  that 
to  satisfy  herself  there  was  no  trick  or  deception,  she  exam- 
ined the  envelope  and  the  seal,  and  reflected  for  some  min- 
utes over  the  mode  in  which  the  document  had  come  to  her 
hands.  Atlee's  story  was  a  very  credible  one;  nothing 
more  likely  than  that  the  boy  was  charged  to  deliver  the 
letter  at  the  castle,  and  simply  sought  to  spare  himself  so 
many  miles  of  way ;  or  it  might  be  that  he  was  enjoined  to 
give  it  to  the  first  traveller  he  met  on  his  road  to  Kilgobbin. 
Nina  had  little  doubt  that  if  Atlee  guessed  or  had  reason 
to  know  the  writer,  he  would  have  treated  the  letter  as  a 
secret  missive  which  would  give  him  a  certain  power  over 
her. 

These  thoughts  did  not  take  her  long,  and  she  turned  once 
more  to  the  letter.  "Poor  fellow,"  said  she,  aloud,  "why 
does  he  write  to  me?"     And  her  own  voice  sent  back  its 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  CORRESPONDENT.  571 

surmises  to  her;  and  as  she  thought  over  him  standing  on 
the  lonely  road,  his  clasped  hands  before  him,  and  his  hair 
wafted  wildly  back  from  his  uncovered  head,  two  heavy 
tears  rolled  slowly  down  her  cheeks,  and  dropped  upon  her 
neck.  "I  am  sure  he  loved  me;  I  know  he  loved  me," 
muttered  she,  half  aloud.  "I  have  never  seen  in  any  eye 
the  same  expression  that  his  wore  as  he  lay  that  morning 
in  the  grass.  It  was  not  veneration,  it  was  genuine  adora- 
tion. Had  I  been  a  saint  and  wanted  worship,  there  was 
the  very  offering  that  I  craved,  —  a  look  of  painful  mean- 
ing, made  up  of  wonder  and  devotion,  a  something  that 
said,  Take  what  course  you  may,  be  wilful,  be  wayward,  be 
even  cruel,  I  am  your  slave.  You  may  not  think  me  worthy 
of  a  thought,  you  may  be  so  indifferent  as  to  forget  me 
utterly,  but  my  life  from  this  hour  has  but  one  spell  to 
charm,  one  memory  to  sustain  it.  It  needed  not  his  last 
words  to  me  to  say  that  my  image  would  lie  on  his  heart 
forever.  Poor  fellow,  /  need  not  have  been  added  to  his 
sorrows ;  he  has  had  his  share  of  trouble  without  me  !  " 

It  was  some  time  ere  she  could  return  to  the  letter,  which 
ran  thus :  — 

"Mademoiselle  Kostalergi,  —  You  once  rendered  me  a  great 
service  —  not  alone  at  some  hazard  to  yourself,  but  by  doing  what 
must  have  cost  you  sorely.  It  is  now  my  turn ;  and  if  the  act  of 
repayment  is  not  equal  to  the  original  debt,  let  me  ask  you  to 
believe  that  it  taxes  my  strength  even  more  than  your  generosity 
once  taxed  your  own. 

"  I  came  here  a  few  days  since  in  the  hope  that  I  might  see  you 
before  I  leave  Ireland  forever  ;  and  while  waiting  for  some  fortu- 
nate chance,  I  learned  that  you  were  betrothed  and  to  be  married 
to  the  young  gentleman  who  lies  ill  at  Kilgobbin,  and  whose 
approaching  trial  at  the  assizes  is  now  the  subject  of  so  much  dis- 
cussion. I  will  not  tell  you  —  I  have  no  right  to  tell  you  —  the  deep 
misery  with  which  these  tidings  filled  me.  It  was  no  use  to  teach 
my  heart  how  vain  and  impossible  were  all  my  hopes  with  regard  to 
you.  It  was  to  no  purpose  that  I  could  repeat  ever  aloud  to  myself 
how  hopeless  my  pretensions  must  be.  My  love  for  you  had  become 
a  religion,  and  what  I  could  deny  to  a  hope,  I  could  still  believe. 
Take  that  hope  away,  and  I  could  not  imagine  how  I  should  face  my 
daily  life,  how  interest  myself  in  its  ambitions,  and  even  care  to 
live  on. 

"  These  sad  confessions  cannot  offend  you,  coming  from  one  even 


572  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

as  humble  as  I  am.  They  are  all  that  are  left  me  for  consolation,  — • 
they  will  soon  be  all  I  shall  have  for  memory.  The  little  lamp  in  the 
lowly  shrine  comforts  the  kneeling  worshipper  far  more  than  it 
honors  the  saint ;  and  the  love  I  bear  you  is  such  as  this.  Forgive  me 
if  I  have  dared  these  utterances.  To  save  him  with  whose  fortunes 
your  own  are  to  be  bound  up,  became  at  once  my  object ;  and  as  I 
knew  with  what  ingenuity  and  craft  his  ruin  had  been  compassed,  it 
required  all  my  efforts  to  baffle  his  enemies.  The  National  Press 
and  the  National  Party  have  made  a  great  cause  of  this  trial,  and 
determined  that  tenant-right  should  be  vindicated  in  the  person  of 
this  man  Gill. 

"  I  have  seen  enough  of  what  is  intended  here  to  be  aware  what 
mischief  may  be  worked  by  hard  swearing,  a  violent  Press,  and  a 
jury  not  insensible  to  public  opinion, — evils,  if  you  like,  but  evils 
that  are  less  of  our  own  growing  than  the  curse  ill-government  has 
brought  upon  us.  It  has  been  decided  in  certain  councils  —  whose 
decrees  are  seldom  gainsaid  —  that  an  example  shall  be  made  of 
Captain  Gorman  O'Shea,  and  that  no  effort  shall  be  spared  to  make 
his  case  a  terror  and  a  warning  to  Irish  landowners  ;  how  they 
attempt  by  ancient  process  of  law  to  subvert  the  concessions  we 
have  wrung  from  our  tyrants. 

"  A  jury  to  find  him  guilty  will  be  sworn;  and  let  us  see  the  judge, 
—  in  defiance  of  a  verdict  given  from  the  jury-box,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation  or  the  shadow  of  dissent, — let  us  see  the  judge 
who  will  dare  to  diminish  the  severity  of  the  sentence.  This  is 
the  language,  these  are  the  very  words  of  those  who  have  more  of 
the  rule  of  Ireland  in  their  hands  than  the  haughty  gentlemen,  hon- 
orable and  right  honorable,  who  sit  at  Whitehall. 

"  I  have  heard  this  opinion  too  often  of  late  to  doubt  how  much 
it  is  a  fixed  determination  of  the  party  ;  and  until  now  —  until  I 
came  here,  and  learned  what  interest  his  fate  could  have  for  me  —  I 
offered  no  opposition  to  these  reasonings.  Since  then  I  have  be- 
stirred myself  actively.  I  have  addressed  the  committee  here  who 
have  taken  charge  of  the  prosecution ;  I  have  written  to  the  editors 
of  the  chief  newspapers  ;  I  have  even  made  a  direct  appeal  to  the 
leading  counsel  for  the  prosecution,  and  tried  to  persuade  them  that 
a  victory  here  might  cost  us  more  than  a  defeat,  and  that  the  country 
at  large,  who  submit  with  difficulty  to  the  verdict  of  absolving 
juries,  will  rise  with  indignation  at  this  evidence  of  a  jury  prepared 
to  exercise  a  vindictive  power,  and  actually  make  the  law  the  agent 
of  reprisal.  I  have  failed  in  all,  —  utterly  failed.  Some  reproach 
me  as  faint-hearted  and  craven  ;  some  condescend  to  treat  me  as 
merely  mistaken  and  misguided ;  and  some  are  bold  enough  to  hint 
that,  though  as  a  military  authority  I  stand  without  rivalry,  as  a 
purely  political  adviser  my  counsels  are  open  to  dispute. 


AN   UNLOOKED-FOR  CORRESPONDENT.  573 

"I  have  still  a  power,  however,  through  the  organization  of  which 
I  am  a  chief;  and  by  this  power  I  have  ordered  Gill  to  appear 
before  me,  and,  in  obedience  to  my  commands,  he  will  sail  this 
night  for  America.  With  him  will  also  leave  the  two  other  impor- 
tant witnesses  in  this  cause ;  so  that  the  only  evidence  against  Captain 
O'Shea  will  be  some  of  those  against  whom  he  has  himself  instituted 
a  cross  charge  for  assault.  That  the  prosecution  can  be  carried  on 
with  such  testimony  need  not  be  feared.  Our  Press  will  denounce 
the  infamous  arts  by  which  these  witnesses  have  been  tampered 
with,  and  justice  has  been  defeated.  The  insults  they  may  hurl  at 
our  oppressors  —  for  once  unjustly — will  furnish  matter  for  the 
Opposition  journals  to  inveigh  against  our  present  Government,  and 
some  good  may  come  even  of  this.  At  all  events,  I  shall  have 
accomplished  what  I  sought.  I  shall  have  saved  from  a  prison  the 
man  I  hate  most  on  earth,  —  the  man  who,  robbing  me  of  what  never 
could  be  mine,  robs  me  of  every  hope,  of  every  ambition,  making  my 
love  as  worthless  as  my  life!  Have  I  not  repaid  you?  Ask  your 
heart  which  of  us  has  done  more  for  the  other? 

"  The  contract  on  which  Gill  based  his  right  as  a  tenant,  and  which 
would  have  sustained  his  action,  is  now  in  my  hands ;  and  I  will  — 
if  you  permit  me  —  place  it  in  yours.  This  may  appear  an  ingenious 
device  to  secure  a  meeting  with  you;  but  though  I  long  to  see 
you  once  more,  were  it  but  a  minute,  I  would  not  compass  it  by  a 
fraud.  If,  then,  you  will  not  see  me,  I  shall  address  the  packet  to 
you  through  the  post. 

"  1  have  finished.  I  have  told  you  what  it  most  concerns  you 
to  know,  and  what  chiefly  regards  your  happiness.  I  have  done 
this  as  coldly  and  impassively,  I  hope,  as  though  I  had  no  other  part 
in  the  narrative  than  that  of  the  friend  whose  friendship  had  a 
blessed  office.  I  have  not  told  you  of  the  beating  heart  that  hangs  over 
this  paper,  nor  will  I  darken  one  bright  moment  of  your  fortune  by 
the  gloom  of  mine.  If  you  will  write  me  one  line,  —  a  farewell  if  it 
must  be,  —  send  it  to  the  care  of  Adam  Cobb,  '  Cross  Keys,'  Moate, 
where  I  shall  find  it  up  to  Thursday  next.  If  —  and  oh  !  how  shall 
I  bless  you  for  it  —  if  you  will  consent  to  see  me,  to  say  one  word,  to 
let  me  look  on  you  once  more,  I  shall  go  into  my  banishment  with  a 
bolder  heart,  as  men  go  into  battle  with  an  amulet. 

"Daniel  Donogan." 

*' Shall  I  show  this  to  Kate?"  was  the  first  thought  of 
Nina,  as  she  laid  the  letter  down.  "  Is  it  a  breach  of  confi- 
dence to  let  another  than  myself  read  these  lines  ?  Assuredly 
they  were  meant  for  my  eyes  alone.  Poor  fellow !  "  said  she, 
once  more  aloud.     ''  It  was  very  noble  in  him  to  do  this  for 


574  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

one  he  could  not  but  regard  as  a  rival."  And  then  she 
asked  herself  how  far  it  might  consist  with  honor  to  derive 
benefit  from  his  mistake  —  since  mistake  it  was  —  in  believ- 
ing O'Shea  was  her  lover,  and  to  be  her  future  husband. 

"There  can  be  little  doubt  Donogan  would  never  have 
made  the  sacrifice  had  he  known  that  I  am  about  to  marry 
Walpole."  From  this  she  rambled  on  to  speculate  on  how 
far  might  Donogan's  conduct  compromise  or  endanger  him 
with  his  own  party,  and  if  —  which  she  thought  well  probable 
—  there  was  a  distinct  peril  in  what  he  was  doing,  whether 
he  would  have  incurred  that  peril  if  he  really  knew  the  truth, 
and  that  it  was  not  herself  he  was  serving. 

The  more  she  canvassed  these  doubts,  the  more  she  found 
the  difficulty  of  resolving  them ;  nor  indeed  was  there  any 
other  way  than  one, —  distinctly  to  ask  Donogan  if  he  would 
persist  in  his  kind  intentions  when  he  knew  that  the  benefit 
was  to  revert  to  her  cousin  and  not  to  herself.  So  far  as 
the  evidence  of  Gill  at  the  trial  was  concerned,  the  man's 
withdrawal  was  already  accomplished ;  but  would  Donogan 
be  as  ready  to  restore  the  lease,  and  would  he,  in  fact,  be  as 
ready  to  confront  the  danger  of  all  this  interference,  as  at 
first?  She  could  scarcely  satisfy  her  mind  how  she  would 
wish  him  to  act  in  the  contingency  !  She  was  sincerely  fond 
of  Kate,  she  knew  all  the  traits  of  honesty  and  truth  in 
that  simple  character,  and  she  valued  the  very  qualities  of 
straightforwardness  and  direct  purpose  in  which  she  knew 
she  was  herself  deficient.  She  would  have  liked  well  to 
secure  that  dear  girl's  happiness,  and  it  would  have  been 
an  exquisite  delight  to  her  to  feel  that  she  had  been  an  aid 
to  her  welfare ;  and  yet,  with  all  this,  there  was  a  subtle 
jealousy  that  tortured  her  in  thinking,  "  What  will  this  man 
have  done  to  prove  his  love  for  me^  Where  am  I,  and  what 
are  my  interests  in  all  this  ?  "  There  was  a  poison  in  this 
doubt  that  actually  extended  to  a  state  of  fever.  ' '  I  must 
see  him,"  she  said  at  last,  speaking  aloud  to  herself.  "I 
must  let  him  know  the  truth.  If  what  he  proposes  shall  lead 
him  to  break  with  his  party  or  his  friends,  it  is  well  he 
should  see  for  what  and  for  whom  he  is  doing  it." 

And  then  she  persuaded  herself  she  would  like  to  hear 
Donogan  talk,  as  once  before  she  had  heard  him  talk,  of  his 


AN   UNLOOKED-FOR  CORRESPONDENT.  575 

hopes  and  his  ambitions.  There  was  something  in  the  high- 
sounding  inspirations  of  the  man,  a  lofty  heroism  in  all  he 
said,  that  struck  a  chord  in  her  Greek  nature.  The  cause 
that  was  so  intensely  associated  with  danger  that  life  was 
always  on  the  issue,  was  exactly  the  thing  to  excite  her 
heart,  and,  like  the  trumpet-blast  to  the  charger,  she  felt 
stirred  to  her  inmost  soul  by  whatever  appealed  to  reckless 
daring  and  peril.  "  He  shall  tell  me  what  he  intends  to  do, 
—  his  plans,  his  projects,  and  his  troubles.  He  shall  tell 
me  of  his  hopes,  what  he  desires  in  the  future,  and  where  he 
himself  will  stand  when  his  efforts  have  succeeded ;  and, 
oh  !  "  thought  she,  ''  are  not  the  wild  extravagances  of  these 
men  better  a  thousand  times  than  the  well-turned  nothings 
of  the  fine  gentlemen  who  surround  us  ?  Are  not  their  very 
risks  and  vicissitudes  more  manly  teachings  than  the  small 
casualties  of  the  polished  world?  If  life  were  all  '  salon,* 
taste  perhaps  might  decide  against  them ;  but  it  is  not  all 
*  salon,'  or,  if  it  were,  it  would  be  a  poorer  thing  even  than 
I  think  it  I  "  She  turned  to  her  desk  as  she  said  this,  and 
wrote :  — 

"  Dear  Mr.  Donogan,  —  I  wish  to  thank  you  in  person  for  the 
great  kindness  you  have  shown  me,  though  there  is  some  mistake 
on  your  part  in  the  matter.  I  cannot  suppose  you  are  able  to  come 
here  openly,  but  if  you  will  be  in  the  garden  on  Saturday  evening 
at  nine  o'clock,  I  shall  be  there  to  meet  you. 

"  I  am,  very  truly  yours, 

"  Nina  Kostalergi." 

''Very  imprudent,  —  scarce  delicate,  —  perhaps,  all  this, 
and  for  a  girl  who  is  to  be  married  to  another  man  in  some 
three  weeks  hence ;  but  I  will  tell  Cecil  Walpole  all  when  he 
returns,  and  if  he  desires  to  be  off  his  engagement,  he  shall 
have  the  liberty.  I  have  one  half  at  least  of  the  Bayard 
Legend;  and  if  I  cannot  say  lam  'without  reproach,'  I 
am  certainly  without  fear." 

The  letter-bag  lay  in  the  hall,  and  Nina  went  down  at 
once,  and  deposited  her  letter  in  it ;  this  done,  she  lay  down 
on  her  bed,  not  to  sleep,  but  to  think  over  Donogan  and  his 
letter  till  daybreak. 


CHAPTER    LXXXII. 

THE    BREAKFAST-ROOM. 

*'  Strange  house  this !  "  said  Joseph  Atlee,  as  Nina  entered 
the  room  the  next  morning  where  he  sat  alone  at  breakfast. 
"  Lord  Kilgobbin  and  Dick  were  here  a  moment  ago,  and 
disappeared  suddenly ;  Miss  Kearney  for  an  instant,  and  also 
left  as  abruptly ;  and  now  you  have  come,  I  most  earnestly 
hope  not  to  fly  away  in  the  same  fashion." 

*'  No ;  I  mean  to  eat  my  breakfast,  and  so  far  to  keep  you 
company." 

*'  I  thank  the  tea'-urn  for  my  good  fortune,"  said  he, 
solemnly. 

*'A  tete-a-tete  with  Mr.  Atlee  is  a  piece  of  good  luck," 
said  Nina,  as  she  sat  down.  ''Has  anything  occurred  to 
call  our  hosts  away  ?  " 

"In  a  house  like  this,"  said  he,  jocularly,  "where  people 
are  marrying  or  giving  in  marriage  at  every  turn,  what  may 
not  happen?  It  may  be  a  question  of  the  settlement,  or  the 
bride  cake,  or  white  satin  'slip,' — if  that's  the  name  for 
it,  —  the  orange-flowers,  or  the  choice  of  the  best  man,  — 
who  knows  ?  " 

"  You  seem  to  know  the  whole  bead-roll  of  wedding 
incidents." 

"It  is  a  dull  repertoire^  after  all;  for  whether  the  piece 
be  melodrama,  farce,  genteel  comedy,  or  harrowing  tragedy, 
it  has  to  be  played  by  the  same  actors. " 

"What  would  you  have?  —  marriages  cannot  be  all  alike. 
There  must  be  many  marriages  for  things  besides  love,  —  for 
ambition,- for  interest,  for  money,  for  convenience." 

' '  Convenience  is  exactly  the  phrase  I  wanted  and  could 
not  catch." 


THE   BREAKFAST-ROOM.  577 

"  It  is  not  the  word  /wanted,  nor  do  I  think  we  mean  the 
same  thing  by  it." 

"What  I  mean  is  this,"  said  Atlee,  with  a  firm  voice, 
"  that  when  a  young  girl  has  decided  ill  her  own  mind  that 
she  has  had  enough  of  that  social  bondage  of  the  daughter, 
and  cannot  marry  the  man  she  would  like,  she  will  marry  the 
man  that  she  can." 

"  And  like  him  too,"  added  Nina,  with  a  strange,  dubious 
sort  of  smile. 

"Yes,  and  like  him  too;  for  there  is  a  curious  feature  in 
the  woman's  nature  that,  without  any  falsehood  or  dis- 
loyalty, permits  her  to  like  different  people  in  different 
ways,  so  that  the  quiet,  gentle,  almost  impassive  woman 
might,  if  differently  mated,  have  been  a  being  of  fervid 
temper,  headstrong  and  passionate.  If  it  were  not  for  this 
species  of  accommodation,  marriage  would  be  a  worse  thing 
than  it  is." 

"  I  never  suspected  you  of  having  made  a  study  of  the 
subject.  Since  when  have  you  devoted  your  attention  to  the 
theme?" 

"  I  could  answer  in  the  words  of  Wilkes,  — since  I  have 
had  the  honor  to  know  your  Royal  Highness ;  but  perhaps 
you  might  be  displeased  with  the  flippanc3^" 

"  I  should  think  that  very  probable,"  said  she,  gravely. 

"  Don't  look  so  serious.  Remember  that  I  did  not  commit 
myself,  after  all." 

"  I  thought  it  was  possible  to  discuss  this  problem  without 
a  personality." 

"  Don't  you  know  that,  let  one  deal  in  abstractions  as  long 
as  he  will,  he  is  only  skirmishing  around  special  instances? 
It  is  out  of  what  I  glean  from  individuals  I  make  up  my 
generalities." 

"  Am  I  to  understand  by  this  that  I  have  supplied  you 
with  the  material  of  one  of  these  reflections?" 

"  You  have  given  me  the  subject  of  many.  If  I  were  to 
tell  you  how  often  I  have  thought  of  you,  I  could  not  answer 
for  the  words  in  which  I  might  tell  it.'* 

"  Do  not  tell  it,  then." 

"  I  know  —  I  am  aware  —  I  have  heard  since  I  came  here 

37 


578  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

that   there   is   a  special  reason  why   you   could   not  listen 
to  me." 

"  And  being  so,  why  do  you  propose  that  I  should  hear 
you  ?  " 

"  1  will  tell  you,"  said  he,  with  an  earnestness  that  almost 
startled  her,  —  ''I  will  tell  you,  because  there  are  things  on 
which  a  doubt  or  an  equivocation  is  actually  maddening ; 
and  I  will  not,  I  cannot  believe  that  you  have  accepted 
Cecil  Walpole." 

"  Will  you  please  to  say  why  it  should  seem  so  incre- 
dible?" 

*'  Because  I  have  seen  you  not  merely  in  admiration,  and 
that  admiration  would  be  better  conveyed  by  a  stronger 
word ;  and  because  I  have  measured  you  with  others 
infinitely  beneath  you  in  every  way,  and  who  are  yet  soar- 
ing into  very  high  regions  indeed ;  because  I  have  learned 
enough  of  the  world  to  know  that  alongside  of  —  often 
above  —  the  influence  that  men  are  wielding  in  life  by  their 
genius  and  their  capacity,  there  is  another  power  exercised 
by  women  of  marvellous  beauty,  of  infinite  attractions,  and 
exquisite  grace,  which  sways  and  moulds  the  fate  of  man- 
kind far  more  than  cabinets  and  councils.  There  are  not 
above  half  a  dozen  of  these  in  Europe,  and  you  might  be 
one  added  to  the  number." 

"  Even  admitting  all  this,  —  and  I  don't  see  that  I  should 
go  so  far, — it  is  no  answer  to  my  question." 

"  Must  I  then  say  there  can  be  no  — not  companionship, 
that 's  not  the  word ;  no,  I  must  take  the  French  expres- 
sion, and  call  it  solidarite  —  there  can  be  no  soUdarite  of 
interests,  of  objects,  of  passions,  or  of  hopes  between  people 
so  widely  dissevered  as  you  and  Walpole?  I  am  so  con- 
vinced of  this  that  still  I  can  dare  to  declare  I  cannot 
believe  you  could  marry  him." 

"And  if  I  were  to  tell  you  it  were  true?" 

"  I  should  still  regard  it  as  a  passing  caprice,  that  the 
mere  mention  of  to-morrow  would  offend  you.  It  is  no 
disparagement  of  Walpole  to  say  he  is  unworthy  of  you,  for 
who  would  be  worthy?  but  the  presumption  of  his  daring  is 
enough  to  excite  indignation,  —  at  least,  I  feel  it  such. 
How   he    could   dare   to   link   his   supreme    littleness   with 


THE  BREAKFAST-ROOM.  579 

consummate  perfection ;  to  freight  the  miserable  barque 
of  his  fortunes  with  so  precious  a  cargo ;  to  encounter  the 
feeling,  —  and  there  is  no  escape  for  it,  —  'I  must  drag  that 
woman  down,  not  alone  into  obscurity,  but  into  all  the  sor- 
did meanness  of  a  small  condition,  that  never  can  emerge 
into  anything  better ' !  He  cannot  disguise  from  himself 
that  it  is  not  within  his  reach  to  attain  power  or  place 
or  high  consideration.  Such  men  make  no  name  in  life; 
they  leave  no  mark  on  their  time.  They  are  heaven-born 
subordinates,  and  never  refute  their  destiny.  Does  a  woman 
with  ambition  —  does  a  woman  conscious  of  her  own  great 
merits  —  condescend  to  ally  herself,  not  alone  with  small 
fortune,  —  that  might  be  borne,  —  but  with  the  smaller  asso- 
ciations that  make  up  these  men's  lives,  —  with  the  peddling 
efforts  to  mount  even  one  rung  higher  of  that  crazy  little 
ladder  of  their  ambition,  to  be  a  clerk  of  another  grade, 
a  creature  of  some  fifty  pounds  more,  a  being  in  an  upper 
office?" 

''  And  the  Prince,  —  for  he  ought  to  be  at  least  a  Prince 
who  should  make  me  the  offer  of  his  name,  —  whence  is  he 
to  come,  Mr.  Atlee?  " 

"  There  are  men  who  are  not  born  to  princely  station, 
who  by  their  genius  and  their  determination  are  just  as 
sure  to  become  famous,  and  who  need  but  the  glorious  prize 
of  such  a  woman's  love  —  No,  no,  don't  treat  what  I  say 
as  rant  and  rodomontade ;  these  are  words  of  sober  sense 
and  seriousness." 

''Indeed!"  said  she,  with  a  faint  sigh.  "So  that  it 
really  amounts  to  this,  —  that  I  shall  actually  have  missed 
my  whole  fortune  in  life,  —  thrown  myself  away,  —  all  be- 
cause I  would  not  wait  for  Mr.  Atlee  to  propose  to  me." 

Nothing  less  than  Atlee's  marvellous  assurance  and  self- 
possession  could  have  sustained  this  speech  unabashed. 

"You  have  only  said  what  my  heart  has  told  me  many 
a  day  since." 

"But  you  seem  to  forget,"  added  she,  with  a  very  faint 
curl  of  scorn  on  her  lip,  "  that  I  had  no  more  to  guide 
me  to  the  discovery  of  Mr.  Atlee's  affection  than  that  of 
his  future  greatness.  Indeed,  I  could  more  readily  believe 
in  the  latter  than  the  former." 


580  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  Believe  in  both,"  cried  he,  warmly.  "  If  I  have  con- 
quered  difficulties  in  life,  if  I  ha^^e  achieved  some  successes, 
—  now  for  a  passing  triumph,  now  for  a  moment  of  grati- 
fied vanity,  now  for  a  mere  caprice,  — try  me  by  a  mere 
hope  —  I  only  plead  for  a  hope  —  try  me  by  hope  of 
being  one  day  worthy  of  calling  that  hand  my  own." 

As  he  spoke,  he  tried  to  grasp  her  hand ;  but  she  with- 
drew it  coldly  and  slowly,  saying,  "I  have  no  fancy  to 
make  myself  the  prize  of  any  success  In  life,  political  or 
literary;  nor  can  I  believe  that  the  man  who  reasons  in 
this  fashion  has  any  really  high  ambition.  Mr.  Atlee," 
added  she,  more  gravely,  "your  memory  may  not  be  as 
good  as  mine,  and  you  will  pardon  me  if  I  remind  you  that, 
almost  at  our  first  meeting,  we  struck  up  a  sort  of  friend- 
ship, on  the  very  equivocal  ground  of  a  common  country. 
We  agreed  that  each  of  us  claimed  for  their  native  land  the 
mythical  Bohemia,  and  we  agreed,  besides,  that  the  natives 
of  that  country  are  admirable  colleagues,  but  not  good 
partners." 

*'  You  are  not  quite  fair  in  this,"  he  began ;  but  before 
he  could  say  more,  Dick  Kearney  entered  hurriedly,  and 
cried  out:  "It's  all  true.  The  people  are  in  wild  excite- 
ment, and  all  declare  that  they  will  not  let  him  be  taken. 
Oh!  I  forgot,"  added  he.  "You  were  not  here  when  my 
father  and  I  were  called  away  by  the  despatch  from  the 
police-station,  to  say  that  Donogan  has  been  seen  at 
Moate,  and  is  about  to  hold  a  meeting  on  the  bog.  Of 
course,  this  is  mere  rumor ;  but  the  constabulary  are  deter- 
mined to  capture  him,  and  Curtis  has  written  to  inform 
my  father  that  a  party  of  police  will  patrol  the  grounds 
here  this  evening." 

"  And  if  they  should  take  him,  what  would  happen,  —  to 
him,  I  mean?  "  asked  Nina,  coldly. 

"An  escaped  convict  is  usually  condemned  to  death;  but 
I  suppose  they  would  not  hang  him,"  said  Dick. 

"  Han^  him  !  "  cried  Atlee  ;  "  nothing  of  the  kind.  Mr. 
Gladstone  would  present  him  with  a  suit  of  clothes,  a  ten- 
pound  note,  and  a  first-class  passage  to  America.  He 
would  make  a  'healing  measure'  of  him." 

"  I  must  say,  gentlemen,'  said  Nina,  scornfully,  "  you  can 
discuss  your  friend's  fate  with  a  marvellous  equanimity." 


THE  BREAKFAST-ROOM.  581 

"  So  we  do,"  rejoined  Atlee.    ''  He  is  another  Bohemian.'* 

"  Don't  say  so,  sir,"  said  she,  passionately.  *'The  men 
who  put  their  lives  on  a  venture  —  and  that  venture  not  a 
mere  gain  to  themselves  —  are  in  no  wise  the  associates  of 
those  poor  adventurers  who  are  gambling  for  their  daily 
living.  He  is  a  rebel,  if  you  like ;  but  he  believes  in 
rebellion.     How  much  do  you  believe  in,  Mr.  Atlee?" 

''I  say,  Joe,  you  are  getting  the  worst  of  this  discussion. 
Seriously,  however,  I  hope  they  '11  not  catch  poor  Donogan ; 
and  my  father  has  asked  Curtis  to  come  over  and  dine  here, 
and  I  trust  to  a  good  fire  and  some  old  claret  to  keep  him 
quiet  for  this  evening,  at  least.  We  must  not  molest  the 
police ;  but  there 's  no  great  harm  done  if  we  mislead 
them." 

"  Once  in  the  drawing-room,  if  Mademoiselle  Kostalergi 
will  only  condescend  to  aid  us,"  added  Atlee,  "I  think 
Curtis  will  be  more  than  a  chief  constable  if  he  will  be- 
think him  of  his  duty." 

"  You  are  a  strange  set  of  people,  you  Irish,"  said  Nina, 
as  she  walked  away.  "Even  such  of  you  as  don't  want 
to  overthrow  the  Government  are  always  ready  to  impede 
its  march  and  contribute  to  its  difficulties." 

"  She  only  meant  that  for  an  impertinence,"  said  Atlee, 
after  she  left  the  room ;  "  but  she  was  wonderfully  near  the 
truth,  though  not  truthfully  expressed." 


CHAPTER   LXXXIII. 

THE    GARDEN    BY    MOONLIGHT. 

There  was  but  one  heavy  heart  at  the  dinner-table  that  day ; 
but  Nma's  pride  was  proof  against  any  disclosure  of  suffering, 
and,  though  she  was  tortured  by  anxiety  and  fevered  with 
doubt,  none  —  not  even  Kate  —  suspected  that  any  care 
weighed  on  her. 

As  for  Kate  herself,  her  happiness  beamed  in  every  line 
and  lineament  of  her  handsome  face.  The  Captain  —  to 
give  him  the  name  by  which  he  was  known  —  had  been  up 
that  day,  and  partaken  of  an  afternoon  tea  with  his  aunt  and 
Kate.  Her  spirits  were  excellent,  and  all  the  promise  of  the 
future  was  rose-colored  and  bright.  The  little  cloud  of  what 
trouble  the  trial  might  bring  was  not  suffered  to  darken  the 
cheerful  meeting,  and  it  was  the  one  only  bitter  in  their 
cup. 

To  divert  Curtis  from  this  theme,  on  which,  with  the  accus- 
tomed mal  d,  propos  of  an  awkward  man,  he  wished  to  talk, 
the  young  men  led  him  to  the  subject  of  Donogan  and  his 
party. 

"I  believe  we'll  take  him  this  time,"  said  Curtis.  ''He 
must  have  some  close  relations  with  some  one  about  Moate 
or  Kilbeggan,  for  it  is  remarked  he  cannot  keep  away  from 
the  neighborhood  ;  but  who  are  his  friends,  or  what  they  are 
meditating,  we  cannot"  guess." 

"  If  what  Mademoiselle  Kostalergi  said  this  morning 
be  correct,"  remarked  Atlee,  "conjecture  is  unnecessary. 
She  told  Dick  and  myself  that  every  Irishman  is  at  heart 
a  rebel." 

"I  said  more  or  less  of  one,  Mr.  Atlee,  since  there  are 
some  who  have  not  the  courage  of  their  opinions." 


THE  GARDEN  BY  MOONLIGHT.         583 

"I  hope  you  are  gratified  by  the  emendation,"  whispered 
Dick;  and  then  added  aloud,  "  Donogan  is  not  one  of 
these." 

''  He  's  a  consummate  fool,"  cried  Curtis,  bluntl}^  ''  He 
thinks  the  attack  of  a  police-barrack  or  the  capture  of  a  few 
firelocks  will  revolutionize  Ireland." 

*'  He  forgets  that  there  are  twelve  thousand  police,  officered 
by  such  men  as  yourself.  Captain,"  said  Nina,  gravely. 

"Well,  there  might  be  worse,"  rejoined  Curtis,  doggedly, 
for  he  was  not  quite  sure  of  the  sincerity  of  the  speaker. 

"What  will  you  be  the  better  of  taking  him?"  said  Kil- 
gobbin.  "  If  the  whole  tree  be  pernicious,  where 's  the  use 
of  plucking  one  leaf  off  it?" 

"  The  Captain  has  nothing  to  do  with  that,"  said  Atlee, 
"  any  more  than  a  hound  has  to  discuss  the  morality  o.f  fox- 
hunting,—  his  business  is  the  pursuit." 

"  I  don't  like  your  simile,  Mr.  Atlee,"  said  Nina,  while  she 
whispered  some  words  to  the  Captain,  and  drew  him  in  this 
way  into  a  confidential  talk. 

"  I  don't  mind  him  at  all,  Miss  Nina,"  said  Curtis  ;  "  he 's 
one  of  those  fellows  on  the  Press,  and  they  are  always  say- 
ing impertinent  things  to  keep  their  talents  in  wind.  I  '11 
tell  you,  in  confidence,  how  wrong  he  is.  I  have  just  had  a 
meeting  with  the  Chief  Secretary,  who  told  me  that  the 
Popish  bishops  are  not  at  all  pleased  with  the  leniency  of  the 
Government ;  that  whatever  '  healing  measures '  Mr.  Glad- 
stone contemplates  ought  to  be  for  the  Church  and  the 
Catholics ;  that  the  Fenians  or  the  Nationalists  are  the 
enemies  of  the  Holy  Father ;  and  that  the  time  has  come  for 
the  Government  to  hunt  them  down,  and  give  over  the  rule 
of  Ireland  to  the  Cardinal  and  his  party." 

"  That  seems  to  me  very  reasonable  and  very  logical," 
said  Nina. 

"  Well,  it  is  and  it  is  not.  If  you  want  peace  in  the 
rabbit-warren,  you  must  banish  either  the  rats  or  the  rabbits  ; 
and  I  suppose  either  the  Protestants  or  the  Papists  must 
have  it  their  own  way  here." 

"Then  you  mean  to  capture  this  man?  " 

"We  do, — we  are  determined  on  that.  And,  what's 
more,  I'd  hang  him  if  I  had  the  power." 


584  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

''And  why?" 

"  Just  because  he  isn't  a  bad  fellow !  There  's  no  use  in 
hanging  a  bad  fellow  in  Ireland,  —  it  frightens  nobody ;  but 
if  you  hang  a  respectable  man,  a  man  that  has  done  gener- 
ous and  fine  things,  it  produces  a  great  effect  on  society,  and 
is  a  terrible  example." 

"  There  may  be  a  deep  wisdom  in  what  you  say." 

"Not  that  they'll  mind  me,  for  all  that.  It's  the  men 
like  myself.  Miss  Nina,  who  know  Ireland  well,  who  know 
every  assize  town  in  the  country,  and  what  the  juries  will  do 
in  each,  are  never  consulted  in  England.  They  say,  '  Let 
Curtis  catch  him,  —  that 's  his  business.'  " 

"  And  how  will  you  do  it?  " 

"I'll  tell  you.  I  haven't  men  enough  to  watch  all  the 
roads ;  but  I  '11  take  care  to  have  my  people  where  he 's  least 
likely  to  go,  that  is,  to  the  north.  He  's  a  cunning  fellow  is 
Dan,  and  he  'd  make  for  the  Shannon  if  he  could ;  but  now 
that  he  knows  we  're  after  him,  he  '11  turn  to  Antrim  or 
Derry.  He  '11  cut  across  Westmeath,  and  make  north,  if  he 
gets  away  from  this." 

"  That  is  a  very  acute  calculation  of  yours ;  and  where  do 
you  suspect  he  may  be  now,  —  I  mean,  at  this  moment  we  're 
talking?" 

"  He 's  not  three  miles  from  where  we  're  sitting,"  said  he, 
in  a  low  whisper,  and  a  cautious  glance  round  the  table. 
"He's  hid  in  the  bog  outside.  There's  scores  of  places 
there  a  man  could  hide  in,  and  never  be  tracked ;  and 
there 's  few  fellows  would  like  to  meet  Donogan  single- 
handed.  He 's  as  active  as  a  rope-dancer,  and  he 's  as 
courageous  as  the  devil." 

"  It  would  be  a  pity  to  hang  such  a  fellow." 

"  There  's  plenty  more  of  the  same  sort,  —  not  exactly  as 
good  as  him,  perhaps,  for  Dan  was  a  gentleman  once." 

"And  is,  probably,  still?  " 

"  It  would  be  hard  for  him,  with  the  rapscallions  he  has  to 
live  with,  and  not  five  shillings  in  his  pocket,  besides." 

"  I  don't  know,  after  all,  if  you  '11  be  happier  for  giving 
him  up  to  the  law.  He  may  have  a  mother,  a  sister,  a  wife, 
or  a  sweetheart." 

"  He  may  have  a  sweetheart,  but  I  know  he  has  none  of 


THE   GARDEN  BY  MOONLIGHT.  ,585 

the  others.  He  said,  in  the  dock,  that  no  man  could  quit 
life  at  less  cost,  —  that  there  was  n't  one  to  grieve  after 
him." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  that  was  a  sad  confession." 

''We're  not  all  to  turn  Fenians,  Miss  Nina,  because 
we're  only  children  and  unmarried." 

"You  are  too  clever  for  me  to  dispute  with,"  said  she,  in 
affected  humility;  "but  I  like  greatly  to  hear  you  talk  of 
Ireland.     Now,  what  number  of  people  have  you  here?  " 

"  I  have  my  orderly,  and  two  men  to  patrol  the  demesne ; 
but  to-morrow  we  '11  draw  the  net  tighter.  We  '11  call  in  all 
the  party  from  Moate.  and,  from  information  I  have  got, 
we  're  sure  to  track  him." 

"  What  confidences  is  Curtis  making  with  Mademoiselle 
Nina  ?  "  said  Atlee,  who,  though  affecting  to  join  the  general 
conversation,  had  never  ceased  to  watch  them. 

"  The  Captain  is  telling  me  how  he  put  down  the  Fenians 
in  the  rising  of  '61,"  said  Nina,  calmly. 

"  And  did  he?  I  say,  Curtis,  have  you  really  suppressed 
rebellion  in  Ireland?" 

"No;  nor  won't,  Mr.  Joe  Atlee,  till  we  put  down  the 
rascally  Press,  —  the  unprincipled  penny-a-liners,  that  write 
treason  to  pay  for  their  dinner." 

"  Poor  fellows  !  "  replied  Atlee.  "  Let  us  hope  it  does  not 
interfere  with  their  digestion.  But  seriously.  Mademoiselle, 
does  it  not  give  you  a  great  notion  of  our  insecurity  here  in 
Ireland  when  you  see  to  what  we  trust  law  and  order." 

"  Never  mind  him,  Curtis,"  said  Kilgobbin.  "  When  these 
fellows  are  not  saying  sharp  things,  they  have  to  be  silent." 

While  the  conversation  went  briskly  on,  Nina  contrived  to 
glance  unnoticed  at  her  watch,  and  saw  that  it  wanted  only 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  nine.  Nine  was  the  hour  she  had 
named  to  Donogan  to  be  in  the  garden,  and  she  already 
trembled  at  the  danger  to  which  she  had  exposed  him.  She 
reasoned  thus :  So  reckless  and  fearless  is  this  man,  that, 
if  he  should  have  come  determined  to  see  me,  and  I  do 
not  go  to  meet  him,  he  is  quite  capable  of  entering  the 
house  boldly,  even  at  the  cost  of  being  captured.  The 
very  price  he  would  have  to  pay  for  his  rashness  would  be 
its  temptation. 


586  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

A  sudden  cast  of  seriousness  overcame  her  as  she  thus 
thought ;  and  Kate,  perceiving  it,  rose  at  once  to  retire. 

"  You  were  not  ill,  dearest  Nina?  1  saw  you  grow  pale, 
and  I  fancied  for  a  moment  you  seemed  faint." 

*'No;  a  mere  passing  weakness.  I  shall  lie  down,  and 
be  better  presently." 

*'  And  then  you  '11  come  up  to  aunt's  room,  — I  call  god- 
mother aunt  now,  —  and  take  tea  with  Gorman  and  us  all." 

"Yes,  I'll  do  that  after  a  little  rest.  I'll  take  half  an 
hour  or  so  of  quiet,"  said  she,  in  broken  utterances.  "  I 
suppose  the  gentlemen  will  sit  over  their  wine ;  there  's  no 
fear  of  their  breaking  up." 

"  Very  little  /ear,  indeed,"  said  Kate,  laughing  at  the 
word.  "Papa  made  me  give  out  some  of  his  rare  old  .'41 
wine  to-day,  and  they're  not  likely  to  leave  it." 

"  By-by,  then,  for  a  little  while,"  said  Nina,  dreamily, 
for  her  thoughts  had  gone  off  on  another  track.  "  I  shall 
join  you  later  on." 

Kate  tripped  gayly  up  the  stairs,  singing   pleasantly  as 
she  went,  for  hers  was  a  happy  heart  and  a  hopeful. 
'    Nina  lingered  for  a  moment  with  her  hand  on  the  banister, 
and  then  hurried  to  her  room. 

It  was  a  still  cold  night  of  deep  winter,  a  very  faint  cres- 
cent of  a  new  moon  was  low  in  the  sky,  and  a  thin  snowfall, 
slightly  crisped  with  frost,  covered  the  ground.  Nina 
opened  her  window  and  looked  out.  All  was  still  and  quiet 
without,  —  not  a  twig  moved.  She  bent  her  ear  to  listen, 
thinking  that  on  the  frozen  ground  a  step  might  perhaps  be 
heard,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  her  anxiety  when  she  heard 
nothing.  The  chill,  cold  air  that  came  in  through  the  win- 
dow warned  her  to  muffle  herself  well,  and  she  drew  the 
hood  of  her  scarlet  cloak  over  her  head.  Strong-booted, 
and  with  warm  gloves,  she  stood  for  a  moment  at  her  door 
to  listen,  and,  finding  all  quiet,  she  slowly  descended  the 
stairs  and  gained  the  hall.  She  started  affrighted  as  she 
entered,  thinking  there  was  some  one  seated  at  the  table ; 
but  she  rallied  in  an  instant,  as  she  saw  it  was  only  the  loose 
horseman's  coat,  or  cloak,  of  the  chief  constable,  which, 
lined  with  red,  and  with  the  gold-laced  cap  beside  it,  made 
up  the  delusion  that  alarmed  her. 


THE  GARDEN  BY  MOONLIGHT.         587 

It  was  not  an  easy  task  to  withdraw  the  heavy  bolts  and 
bars  that  secured  the  massive  door,  and  even  to  turn  the 
heavy  key  in  the  lock  required  an  effort ;  but  she  succeeded 
at  length,  and  issued  forth  into  the  open. 

"How  I  hope  he  has  not  come!  how  I  pray  be  has  not 
ventured  !  "  said  she  to  herself,  as  she  walked  along.  ''  Leave- 
takings  are  sad  things,  and  why  incur  one  so  full  of  peril 
and  misery  too?  When  I  wrote  to  him,  of  course  I  knew 
nothing  of  his  danger,  and  it  is  exactly  his  danger  will  make 
him  come !  "  She  knew  of  others  to  whom  such  reasonings 
would  not  have  applied,  and  a  scornful  shake  of  the  head 
showed  that  she  would  not  think  of  them  at  such  a  moment. 
The  sound  of  her  own  footsteps  on  the  crisp  ground  made 
her  once  or  twice  believe  she  heard  some  one  coming  ;  and  as 
she  stopped  to  listen,  the  strong  beating  of  her  heart  could 
be  counted.  It  was  not  fear,  —  at  least  not  fear  in  the  sense 
of  a  personal  danger,  —  it  was  that  high  tension  which  great 
anxiety  lends  to  the  nerves,  exalting  vitality  to  a  state  in 
which  a  sensation  is  as  powerful  as  a  material  influence. 

She  ascended  the  steps  of  the  little  terraced  mound  of  the 
rendezvous,  one  by  one,  overwhelmed  almost  to  fainting  by 
some  imagined  analogy  with  the  scaffold,  which  might  be  the 
fate  of  him  she  was  going  to  meet. 

He  was  standing  under  a  tree,  his  arms  crossed  on  his 
breast,  as  she  came  up.  The  moment  she  appeared,  he 
rushed  to  meet  her,  and,  throwing  himself  on  one  knee,  he 
seized  her  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"Do  you  know  your  danger  in  being  here?  "she  asked, 
as  she  surrendered  her  hand  to  his  grasp. 

"  I  know  it  all,  and  this  moment  repays  it  tenfold." 

"You  cannot  know  the  full  extent  of  the  peril ;  you  can- 
not know  that  Captain  Curtis  and  his  people  are  in  the 
castle  at  this  moment,  that  they  are  in  full  cry  after  you, 
and  that  every  avenue  to  this  spot  is  watched  and  guarded." 

"  What  care  I !  Have  I  not  this?  "  And  he  covered  her 
hand  with  kisses. 

"  Every  moment  that  you  are  here  increases  j^our  danger, 
and  if  my  absence  should  become  known,  there  will  be  a 
search  after  me.  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  if  my  folly 
should  lead  to  your  being  captured." 


588  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

'Mf  I  could  but  feel  my  fate  was  linked  with  yours,  I'd 
give  ray  life  for  it  willingly." 

"  It  was  not  to  listen  to  such  words  as  these  I  came  here." 

''  Remember,  dearest,  they  are  the  last  confessions  of  one 
you  shall  never  see  more.  They  are  the  last  cry  of  a  heart 
that  will  soon  be  still  forever." 

''No,  no,  no!"  cried  she,  passionately.  "There  is  life 
enough  left  for  you  to  win  a  worthy  name.  Listen  to  me 
calmly  now :  I  have  heard  from  Curtis  within  the  last  hour 
all  his  plans  for  your  capture ;  I  know  where  his  patrols  are 
stationed,  and  the  roads  they  are  to  watch." 

''  And  did  you  care  to  do  this?  "  said  he,  tenderly. 

''  I  would  do  more  than  that  to  save  you." 

"  Oh,  do  not  say  so !  "  cried  he,  wildly,  "  or  you  will  give 
me  such  a  desire  to  live  as  will  make  a  coward  of  me." 

''  Curtis  suspects  you  will  go  northward ;  either  he  has 
had  information,  or  computes  it  from  what  you  have  done 
already." 

"He  is  wrong,  then.  When  I  go  hence,  it  shall  be  to 
the  Court  House  at  TuUamore,  where  I  mean  to  give  myself 
up." 

"As  what?" 

"As  what  I  am, — a  rebel,  convicted,  sentenced,  and 
escaped,  and  still  a  rebel." 

"  You  do  not,  then,  care  for  life?  " 

"  Do  I  not,  for  such  moments  of  life  as  this!  "  cried  he, 
as  with  a  wild  rapture  he  kissed  her  hand  again  and  again. 

"  And  were  1  to  ask  you,  you  would  not  try  to  save  your 
life?" 

"  To  share  that  life  with  you  there  is  not  anything  I  would 
not  dare.  To  live  and  know  you  were  another's  is  more  than 
I  can  face.  Tell  me,  Nina,  is  it  true  you  are  to  be  the  wife 
of  this  soldier?     I  cannot  utter  his  name." 

"I  am  to  be  married  to  Mr.  Walpole." 

"What!  to  that  contemptuous  young  man  you  have 
already  told  me  so  much  of?  How  have  they  brought  you 
down  to  this  ?  " 

"There  is  no  thought  of  bringing  down;  his  rank  and 
place  are  above  my  own,  —  he  is  by  family  and  connection 
superior  to  us  all." 


THE   GARDEN  BY  MOONLIGHT.  589 

*'  And  what  is  he,  or  how  does  he  asph-e  to  you?  Is  the 
vulgar  security  of  competence  to  live  on, —  is  that  enough  for 
one  like  you?  Is  the  well-balanced  good-breeding  of  common 
politeness  enough  to  fill  a  heart  that  should  be  fed  on  pas- 
sionate devotion  ?  You  may  link  yourself  to  mediocrity,  but 
can  you  humble  your  nature  to  resemble  it?  Do  you  believe 
you  can  plod  on  the  dreary  road  of  life  without  an  impulse 
or  an  ambition,  or  blend  your  thoughts  with  those  of  a  man 
who  has  neither?" 

She  stood  still  and  did  not  utter  a  word. 

"  There  are  some  —  I  do  not  know  if  you  are  one  of  them 
—  who  have  an  almost  shrinking  dread  of  poverty." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  poverty." 

"  It  has  but  one  antidote,  I  know, — intense  love!  The 
all-powerful  sense  of  living  for  another  begets  indifference  to 
the  little  straits  and  trials  of  narrow  fortune,  till  the  mind  at 
last  comes  to  feel  how  much  there  is  to  live  for  beyond  the 
indulgence  of  vulgar  enjoyments ;  and  if,  to  crown  all,  a 
high  ambition  be  present,  there  will  be  an  ecstasy  of  bliss  no 
words  can  measure." 

"  Have  you  failed  in  Ireland?  "  asked  she,  suddenly. 

"  Failed,  so  far  as  to  know  that  a  rebellion  will  only 
ratify  the  subjection  of  the  country  to  England ;  a  recon- 
quest  would  be  slavery.  The  chronic  discontent  that  burns 
in  every  peasant  heart  will  do  more  than  the  appeal  to  arms. 
It  is  slow,  but  it  is  certain." 

"  And  where  is  your  part?  " 

"  My  part  is  in  another  land;  my  fortune  is  linked  with 
America,  — that  is,  if  I  care  to  have  a  fortune." 

"  Come,  come,  Donogan,"  cried  she,  calling  him  inadver- 
tently by  his  name,  "  men  like  you  do  not  give  up  the  battle 
of  life  so  easily.  It  is  the  very  essence  of  their  natures  to 
resist  pressure  and  defy  defeat." 

"  So  I  could ;  so  I  am  ready  to  show  myself.  Give  me 
but  hope.  There  are  high  paths  to  be  trodden  in  more  than 
one  region  of  the  globe.  There  are  great  prizes  to  be 
wrestled  for,  but  it  must  be  by  him  who  would  share  them 
with  another.  Tell  me,  Nina,"  said  he,  suddenly,  lowering 
his  voice  to  a  tone  of  exquisite  tenderness,  "  have  you  never, 
as  a  little  .child,  played  at  that  game  of  what  is  called  seek- 


590  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

ing  your  fortune,  —  wandered  out  into  some  thick  wood  or 
along  a  winding  rivulet,  to  meet  whatever  little  incident 
imagination  might  dignify  into  adventure  ;  and  in  the  chance 
heroism  of  your  situation  have  you  not  found  an  intense 
delight?  And  if  so  in  childhood,  why  not  see  if  adult  years 
cannot  renew  the  experience  ?  Why  not  see  if  the  great 
world  be  not  as  dramatic  as  the  small  one?  I  should  say  it 
is  still  more  so.     I  know  you  have  courage." 

"And  what  will  courage  do  for  me? "  asked  she,  after  a 
pause. 

"For  you,  not  much;  forme,  everything." 

"I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  I  mean  this,  —  that  if  that  stout  heart  could  dare  the 
venture  and  trust  its  fate  to  me, — to  me,  poor,  outlawed, 
and  doomed,  —  there  would  be  a  grander  heroism  in  a  girl's 
nature  than  ever  found  home  in  a  man's." 

"And  what  should  I  be?  " 

"My  wife  within  an  hour;  my  idol  while  I  live." 

"There  are  some  who  would  give  this  another  name  than 
courage,"  said  she,  thoughtfully. 

*'  Let  them  call  it  what  they  will,  Nina.  Is  it  not  to  the 
unbounded  trust  of  a  nature  that  is  above  all  others  that  I, 
poor,  unknown,  ignoble  as  I  am,  appeal  when  I  ask,  Will 
you  be  mine?     One  word,  — only  one,  — or,  better  still  —  " 

He  clasped  her  in  his  arms  as  he  spoke,  and,  drawing  her 
head  towards  his,  kissed  her  cheek  rapturously. 

With  wild  and  fervent  words,  he  now  told  her  rapidly  that 
he  had  come  prepared  to  make  her  the  declaration,  and  had 
provided  everything,  in  the  event  of  her  compliance,  for 
their  flight.  By  an  unused  path  through  the  bog  they  could 
gain  the  main  road  to  Maryborough,  where  a  priest,  well 
known  in  the  Fenian  Interest,  would  join  them  in  marriage. 
The  officials  of  the  railroad  were  largely  imbued  with  the 
nationalist  sentiment,  and  Donogan  could  be  sure  of  safe 
crossing  to  Kilkenny,  where  the  members  of  the  party  were 
in  great  force. 

In  a  very  few  words  he  told  her  how,  by  the  mere  utterance 
of  his  name,  he  could  secure  the  faithful  services  and  the 
devotion  of  the  people  in  every  town  or  village  of  the  king- 
dom.    "The  English  have  done  this  for  us,"  cried  he,  "and 


THE  GARDEN  BY  MOONLIGHT.         591 

we  thank  them  for  it.  They  have  popularized  rebellion  in  a 
way  that  all  our  attempts  could  never  have  accomplished. 
How  could  I,  for  instance,  gain  access  to  those  little  gath- 
erings at  fair  or  market,  in  the  yard  before  the  chapel,  or 
the  square  before  the  court-house ;  how  could  I  be  able  to 
explain  to  those  groups  of  country  people  what  we  mean  by 
a  rising  in  Ireland, —  what  we  purpose  by  a  revolt  against 
England, —  how  it  is  to  be  carried  on,  or  for  whose  benefit, 
—  what  the  prizes  of  success,  what  the  cost  of  failure  ?  Yet 
the  English  have  contrived  to  embody  all  these  in  one  word, 
and  that  word  my  name !  " 

There  was  a  certain  artifice,  there  is  no  doubt,  in  the  way 
in  which  this  poorly  clad  and  not  distinguished-looking  man 
contrived  to  surround  himself  with  attributes  of  power  and 
influence;  and  his  self-reliance  imparted  to  his  voice,  as  he 
spoke,  a  tone  of  confidence  that  was  actually  dignified.  And, 
besides  this,  there  was  personal  daring ;  for  his  life  was  on 
the  hazard,  and  it  was  the  very  contingency  of  which  he 
seemed  to  take  the  least  heed. 

Not  less  adroit,  too,  was  the  way  in  which  he  showed 
what  a  shock  and  amazement  her  conduct  would  occasion  in 
that  world  of  her  acquaintances,  —  that  world  which  had 
hitherto  regarded  her  as  essentially  a  pleasure-seeker,  self- 
indulgent  and  capricious.  "  '  Which  of  us  all,'  will  they  say, 
*  could  have  done  what  that  girl  has  done?  Which  of  us, 
having  the  world  at  her  feet,  her  destiny  at  her  very  bidding, 
would  go  off  and  brave  the  storms  of  life  out  of  the  heroism 
of  her  own  nature?  How  we  all  misread  her  nature!  how 
wrongfully  and  unfairly  we  judged  her!  In  what  utter 
ignorance  of  her  real  character  was  every  interpretation  we 
made!  How  scornfully  has  she,  by  one  act,  replied  to  all 
our  misconstruction  of  her!  What  a  sarcasm  on  all  our 
worldliness  is  her  devotion! '  " 

He  was  eloquent,  after  a  fashion,  and  he  had,  above  most 
men,  the  charm  of  a  voice  of  singular  sweetness  and  melody. 
It  was  clear  as  a  bell,  and  he  could  modulate  its  tones  till, 
like  the  drip,  drip  of  water  on  a  rock,  they  fell  one  by  one 
upon  the  ear.  Masses  had  often  been  moved  by  the  power 
of  his  words,  and  the  mesmeric  influence  of  persuasiveness 
was  a  gift  to  do  him  good  service  now. 


592  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

There  was  much  in  the  man  that  she  liked.  She  liked  his 
rugged  boldness  and  determination;  she  liked  his  contempt 
for  danger  and  his  self-reliance ;  and,  essentially,  she  liked 
how  totally  different  he  was  to  all  other  men.  He  had  not 
their  objects,  their  hopes,  their  fears,  and  their  ways.  To 
share  the  destiny  of  such  a  man  was  to  ensure  a  life  that 
could  not  pass  unrecorded.  There  might  be  storm,  and 
even  shipwreck,  but  there  was  notoriety  —  perhaps  even 
fame! 

And  how  mean  and  vulgar  did  all  the  others  she  had 
known  seem  by  comparison  with  him,  —  how  contemptible 
the  polished  insipidity  of  Walpole,  how  artificial  the  neatly 
turned  epigrams  of  Atlee!  How  would  either  of  these  have 
behaved  in  such  a  moment  of  danger  as  this  man's?  Every 
minute  he  passed  there  was  another  peril  to  his  life;  and  yet 
he  had  no  thought  for  himself,  —  his  whole  anxiety  was  to 
gain  time  to  appeal  to  her.  He  told  her  she  was  more  to 
him  than  his  ambition ;  she  saw  herself  she  was  more  to  him 
than  life.  The  whirlwind  rapidity  of  his  eloquence  also 
moved  her,  and  the  varied  arguments  he  addressed,  now  to 
her  heroism,  now  to  her  self-sacrifice,  now  to  the  power  of 
her  beauty,  now  to  the  contempt  she  felt  for  the  inglorious 
lives  of  commonplace  people,  —  the  ignoble  herd  who  passed 
unnoticed.  All  these  swayed  her ;  and  after  a  long  interval, 
in  which  she  had  heard  him  without  a  word,  she  said,  in  a 
low  murmur  to  herself,  "I  will  do  it." 

Donogan  clasped  her  to  his  heart  as  she  said  it,  and  held 
her  some  seconds  in  a  fast  embrace.  "At  last  I  know 
what  it  is  to  love,"  cried  he,  with  rapture. 

"Look  there!"  cried  she,  suddenly  disengaging  herself 
from  his  arm.  "They  are  in  the  drawing-room  already. 
I  can  see  them  as  they  pass  the  windows.  I  must  go  back, 
if  it  be  for  a  moment,  as  I  should  be  missed." 

"Can  I  let  you  leave  me  now?"  he  said;  and  the  tears 
were  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  have  given  you  my  word,  and  you  may  trust  me, "  said 
she,  as  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"I  was  forgetting  this  document;  this  is  the  lease  or 
the  agreement  I  told  you  of."  She  took  it,  and  hurried 
away. 


THE  GARDEN  BY  MOONLIGHT.         593 

In  less  than  five  minutes  afterwards  she  was  among  the 
company  in  the  drawing-room. 

"Here  have  I  been  singing  a  rebel  ballad,  Nina,"  said 
Kate,  "  and  not  knowing  the  while  it  was  Mr.  Atlee  who 
wrote  it." 

''What!  Mr.  Atlee,"  cried  Nina,  "is  the  '  Time  to  begin' 
yours?"  And  then,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  she 
seated  herself  at  the  piano,  and,  striking  the  chords  of  the 
accompaniment  with  a  wild  and  vigorous  hand,  she  sang,  — 

*'  If  the  moment  is  come  and  the  hour  to  need  us  ; 
If  we  stand  man  to  man,  like  kindred  and  kin ; 
If  we  know  we  have  one  who  is  ready  to  lead  us,  — 
What  waht  we  for  more  than  the  word  to  begin  *  " 

The  wild  ring  of  defiance  in  which  her  clear,  full  voice 
gave  out  these  words  seemed  to  electrify  all  present,  and 
to  a  second  or  two  of  perfect  silence  a  burst  of  applause 
followed,  that  even  Curtis,  with  all  his  loyalty,  could  not 
refrain  from  joining. 

"Thank  God  you  're  not  a  man.  Miss  Nina!  "  cried  he, 
fervently. 

"  I  'm  not  sure  she  's  not  more  dangerous  as  she  is,"  said 
Lord  Kilgobbin.  "There's  people  out  there  in  the  bog, 
starving  and  half-naked,  would  face  the  Queen's  Guards  if 
they  only  heard  her  voice  to  cheer  them  on.  Take  my  word 
for  it,  rebellion  would  have  died  out  long  ago  in  Ireland  if 
there  wasn't  the  woman's  heart  to  warm  it." 

"  If  it  were  not  too  great  a  liberty,  Mademoiselle  Kosta- 
lergi,"  said  Joe,  "I  should  tell  you  that  you  have  not  caught 
the  true  expression  of  my  song.  The  brilliant  bravura  in 
which  you  gave  the  last  line,  immensely  exciting  as  it  was, 
is  not  correct.  The  whole  force  consists  in  the  concen- 
trated power  of  a  fixed  resolve,  —  the  passage  should  be 
subdued." 

An  insolent  toss  of  the  head  was  all  Nina's  reply;  and 
there  was  a  stillness  in  the  room,  as,  exchanging  looks  with 
each  other,  the  different  persons  there  expressed  their  amaze- 
ment at  Atlee' s  daring. 

"Who's  for  a  rubber  of  whist?"  said  Lord  Kilgobbin, 

38 


594  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

to  relieve  the  awkward  pause.  *' Are  you,  Curtis?  Atlee, 
I  know,  is  ready." 

"Here  is  all  prepared,"  said  Dick.  "Captain  Curtis  told 
me  before  dinner  that  he  would  not  like  to  go  to  bed  till  he 
had  his  sergeant's  report;  and  so  I  have  ordered  a  broiled 
bone  to  be  ready  at  one  o'clock,  and  we  '11  sit  up  as  late  as 
he  likes  after." 

"Make  the  stake  pounds  and  fives,"  cried  Joe,  "and  I 
should  pronounce  your  arrangements  perfection." 

"With  this  amendment,"  interposed  my  Lord,  "that 
nobody  is  expected  to  pay ! " 

"I  say,  Joe,"  whispered  Dick,  as  they  drew  nigh  the 
table,  "my  cousin  is  angry  with  you;  why  have  you  not 
asked  her  to  sing  ?  " 

"Because  she  expects  it;  because  she's  tossing  over  the 
music  yonder  to  provoke  it;  because  she  's  in  a  furious  rage 
with  me:  that  will  be  nine  points  of  the  game  in  my  favor," 
hissed  he  out  between  his  teeth. 

"You  are  utterly  wrong;  you  mistake  her  altogether." 

"Mistake  a  woman!  Dick,  will  you  tell  me  what  I  do 
know,  if  I  do  not  read  every  turn  and  trick  of  their  tortuous 
nature?  They  are  occasionally  hard  to  decipher  when 
they  're  displeased.  It 's  very  big  print,  indeed,  when 
they're  angry." 

"You  're  off,  are  you?  "  asked  Nina,  as  Kate  was  about 
to  leave. 

"Yes;  I'm  going  to  read  to  him." 

"To  read  to  him!"  said  Nina,  laughing.  "How  nice  it 
sounds,  when  one  sums  up  all  existence  in  a  pronoun! 
Good-night,  dearest, — good-night!"  and  she  kissed  her 
twice.  And  then,  as  Kate  reached  the  door,  she  ran  towards 
her,  and  said,  "Kiss  me  again,  my  dearest  Kate! " 

"I  declare  you  have  left  a  tear  upon  my  cheek,"  said 
Kate. 

"It  was  about  all  I  could  give  you  as  a  wedding  present," 
muttered  Nina,  as  she  turned  away. 

"Are  you  come  to  study  whist,  Nina?"  said  Lord  Kil- 
gobbin,  as  she  drew  nigh  the  table. 

"No,  my  Lord;  I  have  no  talent  for  games,  but  I  like  to 
look  at  the  players." 


THE  GARDEN  BY  MOONLIGHT.         595 

Joe  touched  Dick  with  his  foot,  and  shot  a  cunning  glance 
towards  him,  as  though  to  say,  ''Was  I  not  correct  in  all  I 
said?" 

"Couldn't  you  sing  us  something,  my  dear?  we're  not 
such  infatuated  gamblers  that  we  '11  not  like  to  hear  you,  — 
eh,  Atlee?" 

"Well,  my  Lord,  I  don't  know;  I'm  not  sure,  — that  is, 
I  don't  see  how  a  memory  for  trumps  is  to  be  maintained 
through  the  fascinating  charm  of  Mademoiselle's  voice. 
And  as  for  cards,  it 's  enough  for  Miss  Kostalergi  to  be  in 
the  room  to  make  one  forget  not  only  the  cards,  but  the 
Fenians." 

"If  it  was  only  out  of  loyalty,  then,  I  should  leave  you!  '* 
said  she,  and  walked  proudly  away. 


CHAPTER   LXXXIV. 


NEXT    MORNING. 


The  whist-party  did  not  break  up  till  nigh  morning.  The 
sergeant  had  once  appeared  at  the  drawing-room  to  announce 
that  all  was  quiet  without.  There  had  been  no  sign  of  any 
rising  of  the  people,  nor  any  disposition  to  molest  the 
police.  Indeed,  so  peaceful  did  everything  look,  and  such 
an  air  of  easy  indifference  pervaded  the  country,  the  police 
were  half  disposed  to  believe  that  the  report  of  Donogan 
being  in  the  neighborhood  was  unfounded,  and  not  impos- 
sibly circulated  to  draw  oft'  attention  from  some  other  part 
of  the  country. 

This  was  also  Lord  Kilgobbin's  belief.  "The  man  has 
no  friends,  or  even  warm  followers,  down  here.  It  was  the 
merest  accident  first  led  him  to  this  part  of  the  country, 
where,  besides,  we  are  all  too  poor  to  be  rebels.  It 's  only 
down  in  Meath,  where  the  people  are  well  off,  and  rents 
are  not  too  high,  that  people  can  afford  to  be  Fenians." 

While  he  was  enunciating  this  fact  to  Curtis,  they  were 
walking  up  and  down  the  breakfast-room,  waiting  for  the 
appearance  of  the  ladies  to  make  tea. 

"I  declare  it's  nigh  eleven  o'clock,"  said  Curtis,  "and  I 
meant  to  have  been  over  two  baronies  before  this  hour." 

"Don't  distress  yourself,  Captain.  The  man  was  never 
within  fifty  miles  of  where  we  are.  And  why  would  he? 
It  is  not  the  Bog  of  Allen  is  the  place  for  a  revolution." 

"It's  always  the  way  with  the  people  at  the  Castle," 
grumbled  out  Curtis.  "They  know  more  of  what 's  going 
on  down  the  country  than  we  that  live  here!  It 's  one  de- 
spatch after  another.  Head-Centre  Such-a-one  is  at  the 
*  Three  Cripples. '     He  slept  there  two  nights ;  he  swore  in 


NEXT  MORNING.  597 

fifteen  men  last  Saturday,  and  they  '11  tell  you  where  he 
bought  a  pair  of  corduroy  breeches,  and  what  he  ate  for  his 
breakfast  —  '*  " 

"I  wish  we  had  ours,"  broke  in  Kilgobbin.  "Where's 
Kate  all  this  time  ?  " 

"Papa,  papa,  I  want  you  for  a  moment;  come  here  to 
me  quickly,"  cried  Kate,  whose  head  appeared  for  a  moment 
at  the  door.  "Here  's  very  terrible  tidings,  papa  dearest," 
said  she,  as  she  drew  him  along  towards  his  study.  "Nina 
is  gone!     Nina  has  run  away!  " 

"Run  away  for  what?  " 

"Run  away  to  be  married;  and  she  is  married.  Read 
this,  or  I  '11  read  it  for  you.  A  country  boy  has  just 
brought  it  from  Maryborough." 

Like  a  man  stunned  almost  to  insensibility,  Kearney 
crossed  his  hands  before  him,  and  sat  gazing  out  vacantly 
before  him. 

"Can  you  listen  to  me, — can  you  attend  to  me,  dear 
papa  ?  " 

"Go  on,"  said  he,  in  a  faint  voice. 

"  It  is  written  in  a  great  hurry,  and  very  hard  to  read.  It 
runs  thus:  '  Dearest,  — I  have  no  time  for  explainings  nor 
excuses,  if  I  were  disposed  to  make  either,  and  I  will  con- 
fine myself  to  a  few  facts.  I  was  married  this  morning  to 
Donogan,  —  the  rebel :  I  know  you  have  added  the  word, 
and  I  write  it  to  show  how  our  sentiments  are  united.  As 
people  are  prone  to  put  into  the  lottery  the  number  they  have 
dreamed  of,  I  have  taken  my  ticket  in  this  greatest  of  all 
lotteries  on  the  same  wise  grounds.  I  have  been  dreaming 
adventures  ever  since  I  was  a  little  child,  and  it  is  but 
natural  that  I  marry  an  adventurer. '  " 

A  deep  groan  from  the  old  man  made  her  stop ;  but  as  she 
saw  that  he  was  not  changed  in  color  or  feature,  she  went 
on:  — 

"  'He  says  he  loves  me  very  dearly,  and  that  he  will  treat 
me  well.  I  like  to  believe  both,  and  I  do  believe  them. 
He  says  we  shall  be  very  poor  for  the  present,  but  that  he 
means  to  become  something  or  somebody  later  on.  I  do 
not  much  care  for  the  poverty,  if  there  is  hope ;  and  he  is  a 
man  to  hope  with  and  to  hope  from. 


598  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"  '  You  are,  in  a  measure,  the  cause  of  all,  since  it  was  to 
tell  me  he  would  send  away  all  the  witnesses  against  your 
husband,  that  is  to  be,  that  I  agreed  to  meet  him,  and  to 
give  me  the  lease  which  Miss  O'Shea  was  so  rash  as  to 
place  in  Gill's  hands.     This  I  now  send  you.'  " 

"And  this  she  has  sent  you,  Kate?"  asked  Kilgobbin. 

"Yes,  papa,  it  is  here,  and  the  master  of  the  '  Swallow's  ' 
receipt  for  Gill  as  a  passenger  to  Quebec." 

"Read  on." 

"There  is  little  more,  papa,  except  what  I  am  to  say 
to  you,  — to  forgive  her." 

"I  can't  forgive  her.     It  was  deceit,  —  cruel  deceit." 

"It  was  not,  papa.  I  could  swear  there  was  no  fore- 
thought. If  there  had  been,  she  would  have  told  me.  She 
told  me  everything.  She  never  loved  Walpole;  she  could 
not  love  him.  She  was  marrying  him  with  a  broken  heart. 
It  was  not  that  she  loved  another,  but  she  knew  she  could 
have  loved  another." 

"Don't  talk  such  muddle  to  me,"  said  he,  angrily.  "You 
fancy  life  is  to  be  all  courting,  but  it  is  n't.  It 's  house- 
rent,  and  butchers'  bills,  and  apothecaries',  and  the  pipe 
water;  it's  shoes,  and  schooling,  and  arrears  of  rent,  and 
rheumatism,  and  flannel  waistcoats,  and  toothache  have  a 
considerable  space  in  Paradise!"  And  there  was  a  grim 
comicality  in  his  utterance  of  the  word. 

"She  said  no  more  than  the  truth  of  herself,"  broke  in 
Kate.  "With  all  her  queenly  ways,  she  could  face  poverty 
bravely;  I  know  it." 

"So  you  can,  any  of  you,  if  a  man  's  making  love  to  you. 
You  care  little  enough  what  you  eat,  and  not  much  more 
what  you  wear,  if  he  tells  you  it  becomes  you;  but  that 's 
not  the  poverty  that  grinds  and  crushes.  It 's  what  comes 
home  in  sickness;  it 's  what  meets  you  in  insolent  letters, 
in  threats  of  this  or  menaces  of  that.  But  what  do  you  know 
about  it,  or  why  do  I  speak  of  it?  She  's  married  a  man  that 
could  be  hanged  if  the  law  caught  him,  and  for  no  other 
reason,  that  I  see,  than  because  he  's  a  felon." 

"I  don't  think  you  are  fair  to  her,  papa." 

"Of  course  I  'm  not.  Is  it  likely  that  at  sixty  I  can  be  as 
great  a  fool  as  I  was  at  sixteen  ?  " 


NEXT  MORNING.  599 

"So  that  means  that  you  once  thought  in  the  same  way 
that  she  does  ?  " 

"I  didn't  say  any  such  thing,  miss,"  said  he,  angrily. 
"Did  you  tell  Miss  Betty  what 's  happened  us?  " 

"I  just  broke  it  to  her,  papa,  and  she  made  me  run  away 
and  read  the  note  to  you.  Perhaps  you  '11  come  and  speak 
to  her?" 

"I  will,"  said  he,  rising,  and  preparing  to  leave  the  room. 
"I'd  rather  hear  I  was  a  bankrupt  this  morning  than  that 
news!"  And  he  mounted  the  stairs,  sighing  heavily  as  he 
went. 

"Is  n't  this  fine  news  the  morning  has  brought  us.  Miss 
Betty !  "  cried  he,  as  he  entered  the  room  with  a  haggard 
look,  and  hands  clasped  before  him.  "Did  you  ever  dream 
there  was  such  disgrace  in  store  for  us?  " 

"This  marriage  you  mean,"  said  the  old  lady,  dryly. 

"Of  course  I  do,  —  if  you  call  it  a  marriage  at  all." 

"I  do  call  it  a  marriage;  here's  Father  Tierney's  certifi- 
cate, a  copy  made  in  his  own  handwriting :  '  Daniel  Dono- 
gan,  M.P.,  of  Killamoyle,  and  Innismul,  County  Kilkenny, 
to  Virginia  Kostalergi,  of  no  place  in  particular,  daughter 
of  Prince  Kostalergi,  of  the  same  localities,  contracted  in 
holy  matrimony  this  morning  at  six  o'clock,  and  witnessed 
likewise  by  Morris  M'Cabe,  vestry  clerk,  Mary  Kestinogue, 
her  mark.'     Do  you  want  more  than  that?  " 

"Do  I  want  more?  Do  I  want  a  respectable  wedding? 
Do  I  want  a  decent  man,  —  a  gentleman,  —  a  man  fit  to 
maintain  her?  Is  this  the  way  she  ought  to  have  behaved? 
Is  this  what  we  thought  of  her?  " 

"It  is  not.  Mat  Kearney;  you  say  truth.  I  never  believed 
so  well  of  her  till  now.  I  never  believed  before  that  she 
had  anything  in  her  head  but  to  catch  one  of  those  English 
puppies,  with  their  soft  voices  and  their  sneers  about  Ire- 
land. I  never  saw  her  that  she  was  n't  trying  to  flatter  them, 
and  to  please  them,  and  to  sing  them  down,  as  she  called  it 
herself,  —  the  very  name  fit  for  it !  And  that  she  had  the 
high  heart  to  take  a  man  not  only  poor,  but  with  a  rope 
round  his  neck,  shows  me  how  I  wronged  her.  I  could 
give  her  five  thousand  this  morning  to  make  her  a  dowry, 
and  to  prove  how  I  honor  her." 


600  LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

"Can  any  one  tell  who  he  is?  What  do  we  know  oi 
him?" 

"All  Ireland  knows  of  him;  and,  after  all,  Mat  Kearney, 
she  has  only  done  what  her  mother  did  before  her." 

"Poor  Matty!  "  said  Kearney,  as  he  drew  his  hand  across 
his  eyes. 

"Aye,  aye!  Poor  Matty,  if  you  like;  but  Matty  was  a 
beauty  run  to  seed,  and,  like  the  rest  of  them,  she  married 
the  first  good-looking  vagabond  she  saw.  Now,  this  girl 
was  in  the  very  height  and  bloom  of  her  beauty,  and  she 
took  a  fellow  for  other  qualities  than  his  whiskers  or  his 
legs.  They  tell  me  he  is  n't  even  well-looking,  so  that  I 
have  hopes  of  her." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Kearney,  "he  has  done  you  a  good 
turn,  anyhow,  — he  has  got  Sam  Gill  out  of  the  country." 

"And  it 's  the  one  thing  that  I  can't  forgive  him.  Mat, 
—  just  the  one  thing  that 's  fretting  me  now.  I  was  living 
in  hopes  to  see  that  scoundrel  Sam  on  the  table,  and  Coun- 
sellor Holmes  baiting  him  in  a  cross-examination.  I 
wanted  to  see  how  the  lawyer  would  n't  leave  him  a  rag  of 
character  or  a  strip  of  truth  to  cover  himself  with.  How 
he  'd  tear  off  his  evasions,  and  confront  him  with  his  own 
lies,  till  he  wouldn't  know  what  he  was  saying  or  where  he 
was  sitting !  I  wanted  to  hear  the  description  he  would  give 
of  him  to  the  jury;  and  I'd  go  home  to  my  dinner  after 
that,  and  not  wait  for  the  verdict." 

"All  the  same,  I  'm  glad  we  're  rid  of  Sam." 

"Of  course  you  are.  You  're  a  man,  and  well  pleased 
when  your  enemy  runs  away;  but  if  you  were  a  woman. 
Mat  Kearney,  you  'd  rather  he  'd  stand  out  boldly  and  meet 
you,  and  fight  his  battle  to  the  end.  But  they  haven't 
done  with  me  yet.  I  '11  put  that  little  blackguard  attorney, 
that  said  my  letter  was  a  lease,  into  Chancery ;  and  it  will 
go  hard  with  me  if  I  don't  have  him  struck  off  the  rolls. 
There  's  a  small  legacy  of  five  hundred  pounds  left  me  the 
other  day,  and,  with  the  blessing  of  Providence,  the  Com- 
mon Pleas  shall  have  it.  Don't  shake  your  head.  Mat 
Kearney.  I  'm  not  robbing  any  one.  Your  daughter  will 
have  enough  and  to  spare  —  " 

"Oh,  godmother!"  cried  Kate,  imploringly. 


NEXT  MORNING.  601 

"It  was  n't  I,  my  darling,  that  said  the  five  hundred  would 
be  better  spent  on  wedding  clothes  or  house-linen.  That 
delicate  and  refined  suggestion  was  your  father's.  It  was 
his  Lordship  made  the  remark." 

It  was^  a  fortunate  accident  at  that  conjuncture  that  a  ser- 
vant should  announce  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Flood,  the  Tory 
J.  P.,  who,  hearing  of  Donogan's  escape,  had  driven  over 
to  confer  with  his  brother  magistrate.  Lord  Kilgobbin  was 
not  sorry  to  quit  the  field,  where  he  'd  certainly  earned  few 
laurels,  and  hastened  down  to  meet  his  colleague. 


CHAPTER   LXXXV. 

THE   END. 

While  the  two  justices  and  Curtis  discussed  the  unhappy 
condition  of  Ireland,  and  deplored  the  fact  that  the  law- 
breaker never  appealed  in  vain  to  the  sympathies  of  a  people 
whose  instincts  were  adverse  to  discipline,  Flood's  estimate 
of  Donogan  went  very  far  to  reconcile  Kilgobbin  to  Nina's 
marriage. 

''Out  of  Ireland,  you  '11  see  that  man  has  stuff  in  him  to 
rise  to  eminence  and  station.  AH  the  qualities  of  which 
home  manufacture  would  only  make  a  rebel  will  combine  to 
form  a  man  of  infinite  resource  and  energy  in  America. 
Have  you  never  imagined,  Mr.  Kearney,  that,  if  a  man 
were  to  employ  the  muscular  energy  to  make  his  way 
through  a  drawing-room  that  he  would  use  to  force  his  pas- 
sage through  a  mob,  the  effort  would  be  misplaced,  and  the 
man  himself  a  nuisance?  Our  old  institutions,  with  all 
their  faults,  have  certain  ordinary  characteristics  that  answer 
to  good-breeding  and  good  manners,  — reverence  for  author- 
ity, respect  for  the  gradations  of  rank,  dislike  to  civil  con- 
vulsion, and  such  like.  We  do  not  sit  tamely  by  when  all 
these  are  threatened  with  overthrow ;  but  there  are  countries 
where  there  are  f^wer  of  these  traditions,  and  men  like 
Donogan  find  their  place  there." 

While  they  debated  such  points  as  these  within  doors, 
Dick  Kearney  and  Atlee  sat  on  the  steps  of  the  hall  door, 
and  smoked  their  cigars. 

"I  must  say,  Joe,"  said  Dick,  "that  your  accustomed 
acuteness  cuts  but  a  very  poor  figure  in  the  present  case. 
It  was  no  later  than  last  night  you  told  me  that  Nina  was 
madly  in  love  with  you.  Do  you  remember,  as  we  went 
upstairs  to  bed,  what  you  said  on  the  landing?     '  That  girl 


THE   END.  603 

is  my  own.     I  may  marry  her  to-morrow,  or  this  day  three 
months.'  " 

"And  I  was  right." 

"So  right  were  you  that  she  is  at  this  moment  the  wife  of 
another." 

"And  cannot  you  see  why?" 

"I  suppose  I  can;  she  preferred  him  to  you,  and  I 
scarcely  blame  her." 

"No  such  thing;  there  was  no  thought  of  preference  in 
the  matter.  If  you  were  not  one  of  those  fellows  who  mis- 
take an  illustration,  and  see  everything  in  a  figure  but  the 
parallel,  I  should  say  that  I  had  trained  too  finely.  Now, 
had  she  been  thoroughbred,  I  was  all  right ;  as  a  cocktail  I 
was  all  wrong." 

"I  own  I  cannot  follow  you." 

"Well,  the  woman  was  angry,  and  she  married  that  fellow 
out  of  pique." 

"Out  of  pique?" 

"I  repeat  it.  It  was  a  pure  case  of  temper.  I  would  not 
ask  her  to  sing.  I  even  found  fault  with  the  way  she  gave 
the  rebel  ballad.  I  told  her  there  was  an  old  lady  —  Amer- 
icanly speaking  —  at  the  corner  of  College  Green,  who  enun- 
ciated the  words  better ;  and  then  I  sat  down  to  whist,  and 
would  not  even  vouchsafe  a  glance  in  return  for  those  looks 
of  alternate  rage  or  languishment  she  threw  across  the  table. 
She  was  frantic.  I  saw  it.  There  was  nothing  she  would  n't 
have  done.  I  vow  she  'd  have  married  even  you  at  that 
moment.  And  with  all  that,  she  'd  not  have  done  it  if 
she'd  been  'clean-bred.'  Come,  come,  don't  flare  up  and 
look  as  if  you  'd  strike  me.  On  the  mother's  side  she  was  a 
Kearney,  and  all  the  blood  of  loyalty  in  her  veins ;  but  there 
must  have  been  something  wrong  with  the  Prince  of  Delos. 
Dido  was  very  angry,  but  her  breeding  saved  her;  she 
didn't  take  a  Head-Centre  because  she  quarrelled  with 
^Eneas." 

"You  are,  without  exception,  the  most  conceited  —  " 

"No,  not  ass;  don't  say  ass,  for  1  'm  nothing  of  the  kind. 
Conceited,  if  you  like,  or  rather,  if  your  natural  politeness 
insists  on  saying  it,  and  cannot  distinguish  between  the  van- 
ity of  a  puppy  and  the  self-consciousness  of  real  power  — 


604  LORD   KILGOBBIN. 

But  come,  tell  me  of  something  pleasanter  than  all  this 
personal  discussion,  —  how  did  Mademoiselle  convey  her 
tidings  ?  Have  you  seen  her  note  ?  Was  it  '  transport ; ' 
was  it  high-pitched  or  apologetic?" 

"Kate  read  it  to  me,  and  I  thought  it  reasonable  enough. 
She  had  done  a  daring  thing,  and  she  knew  it;  she  hoped 
the  best,  and  in  any  case  she  was  not  faint-hearted." 

"Any  mention  of  me?  " 

"Not  a  word;  your  name  does  not  occur." 

"I  thought  not;  she  had  not  pluck  for  that.  Poor  girl! 
the  blow  is  heavier  than  I  meant  it." 

"She  speaks  of  Walpole;  she  encloses  a  few  lines  to  him, 
and  tells  my  sister  where  she  will  find  a  small  packet  of 
trinkets  and  such  like  he  had  given  her." 

"Natural  enough  all  that!  There  was  no  earthly  reason 
why  she  should  n't  be  able  to  talk  of  Walpole  as  easily  as 
of  Colenso  or  the  cattle  plague ;  but  you  see  she  could  not 
trust  herself  to  approach  my  name." 

"You  '11  provoke  me  to  kick  you,  Atlee." 

"In  that  case  I  shall  sit  where  I  am.  But  I  was  going 
to  remark  that  as  I  shall  start  for  town  by  the  next  train, 
and  intend  to  meet  Walpole,  if  your  sister  desires  it,  I  shall 
have  much  pleasure  in  taking  charge  of  that  note  to  his 
address." 

"All  right,  I  '11  tell  her.  I  see  that  she  and  Miss  Betty 
are  about  to  drive  over  to  O' Shea's  Barn,  and  I  '11  give  your 
message  at  once." 

While  Dick  hastened  away  on  his  errand,  Joe  Atlee  sat 
alone,  musing  and  thoughtful.  I  have  no  reason  to  presume 
my  reader  cares  for  his  reflections,  nor  to  know  the  meaning 
of  a  strange  smile,  half  scornful  and  half  sad,  that  played 
upon  his  face.  At  last  he  rose  slowly,  and  stood  looking 
up  at  the  grim  old  castle,  and  its  quaint  blending  of 
ancient  strength  and  modern  deformity.  "Life  here,  I 
take  it,  will  go  on  pretty  much  as  before.  All  the  acts  of 
this  drama  will  resemble  each  other;  but  my  own  little 
melodrama  must  open  soon.  I  wonder  what  sort  of  house 
there  will  be  for  Joe  Atlee' s  benefit." 

Atlee  was  right.  Kilgobbin  Castle  fell  back  to  the  ways 
in  which  our  first  chapter  found  it,  and  other  interests  — 


THE  END.  605 

especially  those  of  Kate's  approaching  marriage  —  soon 
effaced  the  memory  of  Nina's  flight  and  runaway  match. 
By  that  happy  law  by  which  the  waves  of  events  follow 
and  obliterate  each  other,  the  present  glided  back  into  the 
past,  and  the  past  faded  till  its  colors  grew  uncertain. 

On  the  second  evening  after  Nina's  departure,  Atlee 
stood  on  the  pier  of  Kingston  as  the  packet  drew  up  at  the 
jetty.  Walpole  saw  him,  and  waved  his  hand  in  friendly 
greeting.  ''What  news  from  Kilgobbin?"  cried  he,  as  he 
landed. 

"Nothing  very  rose-colored,"  said  Atlee,  as  he  handed 
the  note, 

"Is  this  true?"  said  "Walpole,  as  a  slight  tremor  shook 
his  voice. 

"All  true." 

"Is  n't  it  Irish,  —  Irish,  the  whole  of  it?  " 

"So  they  said  down  there;  and,  stranger  than  all,  they 
seemed  rather  proud  of  it." 


OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 

FORNibs 


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